


Just Thought You Should Know

by EarthsickWithoutYou



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Hannibal in BSHCI, Jealousy, M/M, Major Character Death Not Will or Hannibal, Pet Names, Phone Sex, Possessive Behavior, Post-Episode: s03e07 Digestivo, Praise Kink, Set in Season 3, Smut, Will is married to Molly at the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22178680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou
Summary: Two years after marrying Molly, Will is restless and unhappy, unable to stop thinking about Hannibal and missing his incarcerated cannibal despite all the reasons why he knows it's wrong.  One night, things come to a head when Hannibal finds a way to call him.  A series of sensual phone encounters begs the question of how long Will can possibly resist the desire which Hannibal so expertly cultivates.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 67
Kudos: 488
Collections: Wendigo & Stag





	1. Chapter 1

“Will, it’s fine if there’s someone else, but you _are_ pretty much obligated to tell me,” Molly remarked suddenly.

Or at least it seemed rather sudden to Will as he jolted out of his sullen reverie and met his wife’s questioning, gently disappointed gaze. He reoriented himself to time and place, realizing he’d been sitting in a fog for who knows how long, thinking about the past. Closing the thick, velvety red curtain in his memory palace and saying goodbye, for now, to the Uffizi Gallery, he tried his best not to show how far he’d gone inside himself, so far away from Molly. The curtain shimmered and shuddered, letting out a few haunting shadows between its folds to remind him to return again soon.

_My name is Will Graham. It’s 7:00pm on Saturday night, and I’m at home with Molly, where I should feel at home. I’m safe._

He coughed, processing Molly’s words. “Someone else?”

“Well, it would certainly explain a few things,” she answered wryly, spearing two small broccoli florets on her dinner plate as he twirled his spoon through the mashed potatoes on his own plate, lackadaisical. “You’ve been checked-out for weeks, as if you hardly remember I’m here. I don’t mean to accuse you of anything, maybe I just wanted to get your attention.”

“A shock to the system,” he suggested, completing his task of reorientation to the here and now by glancing around their kitchen. Like the rest of the house, it was clean but a bit cluttered, messy in an endearing way. If only he could say the same about himself. 

“God, was that completely insensitive of me, to try and snap you out of it like that? Are you…” Molly set her fork down, switching from quietly annoyed to distinctly worried. “Will, are you okay, or are you struggling with something in here?” 

She reached over and lightly tapped his forehead. If Will was being honest, he would probably grab her hand and move it down to his heart, where the answer lay, but that would be mean. He’d gotten Molly into this problematic marriage, knowing she deserved better, that he was damaged goods and compromised, but not wanting to admit that, he’d gone through with it anyway. All he had wanted in the immediate aftermath of Hannibal’s incarceration was to forget, to smother his pain and longing for a deranged killer by making a new life for himself. He would inundate himself with goodness and light to block out the dark, but the dark had its ways of snickering and scowling and clawing back up to the surface despite all of his hard work to keep it down. 

He realized now that he’d been using Molly and Wally to try and keep himself sane and righteous, and that had been unbelievably selfish, nearly as mean as confessing it to his wife right now would be. 

Will forced his lips into an affectionate smile, feigning devotion he wished to God was real, and took Molly’s soft, small hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’m sorry I’ve been a little out of it lately. I think I’m coming down with a cold, think it started when I was fishing the other day, too late after dark when it was cold, it was stupid. It’s been coming on slow, but now I’m really starting to feel it.”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded as he released her and began eating his meatloaf as if he was famished, anything to put in his mouth other than more lame excuses that made him feel intolerably guilty. 

Flint sparked black and dire in her usually kind blue eyes. Maybe she was realizing that her kindness to him was getting to be tantamount to idiocy, and he couldn’t blame her. Numbly, he wondered if she would divorce him. If she asked for his advice on the matter, he could not, in good conscience, offer any better suggestion.

“If you’ve got a cold, guess you should go see the doctor,” she reasoned, finishing her red wine and standing to clear the dishes.

“I’ll make an appointment tomorrow.” He stilled her hand as she reached for his plate. “Let me do the dishes, Molly. Thank you for cooking.” He looked up with a near-anguished smile, and they both knew he was thanking her for a lot more than that. 

She had been his port in the storm after every traumatic ordeal of the past few years had washed him up on the shore of her sweet disposition, and how did he thank her? By doing the damn dishes. 

He felt like a disgrace, torn between hating his own weakness and wishing he had the moral bendability not to resist his innermost desires. Was he a coward in every single way that counted? It was sickening.

She shrugged and stopped clearing the table, pouring herself another glass of wine before departing for the living room.

“You should go put your feet up, you deserve it,” he made himself say with a warm smile, the best _Will Graham, Husband of Molly_ imitation he could muster.

“Damn right I do!” She laughed, relaxing slightly, maybe telling herself he really did have a cold and it explained everything, even though his strange mood originated a lot further back than the night-fishing incident. Maybe it was just what she needed to get through the night, and it killed him that it was all he had to give her, barely-digestible lies. This situation was untenable.

“Come sit with me when you’re done,” she requested, disappearing without looking back at him again.

“Mmmhmm,” he murmured, although she was out of earshot by now as he turned on the hot water and began rinsing the dishes, cutlery and glasses before loading the dishwasher. He was filling the meatloaf pan with soapy water to soak when his cell phone rang, and he had to hurry to dry his hands before picking it up.

As such, he didn’t bother looking at the caller id before answering, just muttered out a distracted “Yeah?” as he turned back to the table, planning to find the Clorox wipes to clean it off.

“Will,” Hannibal said in a great gush of breath accompanied by that familiar husky chuckle. Will knew the one, that little, irrepressible laugh that said Hannibal couldn’t quite believe Will was real. His heart seemed to cave in on itself and a desert filled his mouth, screaming tumult roaring through his ears. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“H-how is this possible?” Will demanded wanly. He leaned on the counter, knowing he might otherwise collapse on the floor in sweetly forbidden relief. _God_ , to hear Hannibal, just to hear his voice again after all this time, yes, it was much, much too good.

“I’ve made friends with one of my nurses, and they found a way to facilitate the special phone call,” Hannibal said, cheerful and vibrant as ever.

“You mean you’ve fucked up the mind of one of the nurses so thoroughly that they will do whatever you tell them to,” Will guessed, keeping his voice quiet, wishing he could also sound angry or resentful instead of so achingly soft.

He couldn’t control himself; he was just a small ship suddenly caught up in the precious sound waves emitted from the phone, destined to be saved and wrecked in equal measure, certain by now that when it came to Hannibal, the two destinies were one and the same.

“Clever boy.” Hannibal’s smile was audible through his tone, and Will could easily picture his luscious lips curving suggestively.

Will broke out in a sweat as just that simply, the blood in his body surged, hot, joyous and insistent, to his cock. He hadn’t been this aroused in...he couldn’t even remember how long, and it was dizzying, but so incredibly wrong, maybe even more delicious for being so fucking _wrong_ , opening the Pandora’s box of his addiction to this wicked man.

“You shouldn’t call here,” he managed to say, and Hannibal chortled again.

“No, I shouldn’t. But I have in my possession a printed copy of your wedding announcement, and a question has persisted in my mind with such fervor that I eventually felt compelled to call. I feel we need to clear the air about something, Will.”

“My wedding announcement? That’s from two years ago.”

“Indeed. You looked stunning in that tuxedo, Will, but I’m sure you look beautiful now as well, in whatever you are wearing. One of your plain t-shirts, perhaps under a flannel shirt, paired with your ever-dependable blue jeans, perhaps? It doesn’t require any formal attire to bring out your loveliness.”

Will looked down at his faded grey flannel and jeans with a heady sigh. His senses were drowning in horrified elation with every word Hannibal said and he wanted more and more and more. Needed it, needed _him_.

He grunted, which was enough confirmation to please Hannibal.

“Alana provided me with the print-out, of course,” he continued smoothly. “She wanted me to know you were irrevocably lost to me, wanted to gloat, but it will prove an expensive gloating session for her. You see, prior to this incident I had been planning to kill her quickly and relatively painlessly, but ever since that day it has been clear to me that Alana should suffer in equivilent detail to the suffering she has caused me. When her time comes, it will be most unpleasant for her. Thanks to Alana, over the past two years I’ve had little else to do but stare at this picture and these words about Will and Molly Graham, wondering.”

“Wondering what?” Will rasped, landing haphazardly in a chair by the table. 

“Do you miss me as much as I miss you, Will?” Hannibal’s voice contained not the slightest hint of mockery, amusement or even hate. 

Hannibal had come a long way since the kitchen in Baltimore on the rainy night he left Will with a smile. Will had known, after Muskrat Farm, that they had turned a corner in their relationship, that Hannibal would never try and harm him again, that Hannibal’s affection was now as unguarded as it was sincere, but he had been too afraid to indulge the awful revelation of how much he wanted to give into that, take the hand Hannibal held out, enter a new becoming and admit who he was.

“I’m not going to answer that,” he said thickly, swiping at his wet, reddened eyes, then tugging harshly on a handful of his own unruly hair, wanting to scream. The sharp pain centered him, seeming to balance out the inappropriate erection bulging in his jeans and the miserable guilt weighing down his conscience (or whatever was left of it).

“That’s fine, Will. I understand.”

“You...you do?” As if he needed to ask. If there was one thing at which Hannibal Lecter excelled (even more than all the other areas where he possessed genius-level skill), it was understanding Will Graham. Will had never been able to shake off the memory of that pleasure, the feeling of being fully seen and still, even then, insatiably wanted.

“How about I talk, and you just listen?” Hannibal ventured lightly. “I think for tonight that might be enough for us both. But first, I am curious as to why you did not hang up as soon as you heard my voice.”

“Don’t wanna hang up,” Will blurted, perplexed at the weirdly child-like way he spoke, as if he was distilled down to his most primitive self, some kind of unpredictable wolf cub, violence and innocence mixed indistinguishably.

“That’s good, Will.”

“Talk,” Will demanded, “You wanted to talk, so talk.”

“Very well,” Hannibal agreed. “Close your eyes for me, Will.”

Will obeyed and found that melting at Hannibal’s command occasioned him a fresh wave of arousal.

“I can picture you, Will. I bet you’ve just finished your dinner, you and Molly and Wally, or perhaps Wally is at Eagle Scouts or some other such activity and it was just the two of you tonight. It should have been intimate, or it should have been warmly familial, comforting, but it wasn’t, was it, my darling?”

Will’s breath hitched and Hannibal’s released in a pleased sigh. “I thought not,” he continued. “Perhaps you prepared some freshly caught fish, or Molly concocted some delightfully All-American fare, the height of cozy domestic predictability. Steak on the grill, macaroni and cheese, or perhaps meatloaf--”

“Shut up,” Will scowled.

“Do you really want me to?”

“Obviously not.”

“Well, then. Meatloaf it was. Does she top it off with ketchup, Will, or perhaps a nice criss-crossing of bacon--”

Hannibal truly was the most arrogant, condescending prick -- some things never changed.

“If you have a point--”

“Shhhh, be a good boy and listen. I’m fast approaching the point. I would spend hours making you a delectable meal that would melt in your mouth, the height of refined cuisine. As it’s late Fall, I imagine it’s grown quite chilly in the evenings where you are. To make the most of what’s in season, I might prepare a roasted, cider-glazed chicken with butternut squash and sage risotto. The aroma in the kitchen as I cooked would have you circling me trying to get an early taste, and if you smile at me with that certain sly look of yours, I might indulge your whim. I might indulge you any whim, my angel.”

Will’s heart squeezed in surprise. _”Darling”? “Angel”?_ He’d never wanted words like that; no one had ever used them for him, and the mere idea of a walking disaster like him being called by such terms ought to seem -- always _had_ seemed -- ridiculous. But now the words burst across his own tongue like the sweetest sugar, soothing and exciting, and he was lost in the sound of Hannibal’s voice. That luscious accent draping attentively over every stolen moment of this call, the way Hannibal’s voice was somehow throaty and velvety all at once…

“A spiked apple galette for dessert, I think, made with apple brandy, just the right amount of kick to accompany the sweetness, a light, flaky crust over plump, juicy, drunken fruit. I want to give you the best of everything I have to offer, because that’s what you deserve. I’ll feed you by hand, if you like. I would like that very much, and to watch you enjoy every tasty morsel. You see, dear one, I’m jealous, and I want you to know I’m better than her. I can give you things she never can, Will, and I think you know that, don’t you? Let me show you.” 

Will didn’t think he could take much more, but Hannibal was nowhere near done.

Hannibal mused for a beat, then continued, “I think after dinner, we should adjourn to our library. There’s a soft leather couch in there, Will, by the warmth of the fireplace, can you picture it?”

“Mmm,” Will managed, and there was fire in his blood, rushing through his veins, laying Hannibal’s claim exactly where it belonged, taking him over inside to out.

“You worked hard all day, I’m sure. I would like to give you a back massage.”

“Hann--”

“Your only job is to listen, Will,” Hannibal clucked his tongue. “To be quite thorough, of course, I’ll need you to take off your shirt. Can you do that for me now, or would Molly see if she chances to pass by the room you are in? I suppose we shouldn’t risk it. At any rate, I cannot promise you my intentions are entirely chaste.”

Will pressed his hands, tightly fisted, into his thighs, willing himself not to touch his throbbing cock in response to Hannibal’s description. He was breathless, immersed in a fever that felt like coming home.

“I would knit my hands firmly into all of the places where the tension is coiled and knotted. You hold a lot of that tension right at the base of your neck, don’t you? I’ll find it and work you over until you are loose, limber and more relaxed than you have ever felt. With your shoulders, I’ll be very careful, knowing every place where the old wounds are still sore. I would add a soft, wet kiss to soothe every time I rub my thumbs into your neck and your back nice and hard and deep and make you groan because it’s good and it hurts all at the same time. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

Will had no idea if he was laughing, crying, or hyperventilating. His head was on fire, too, cheeks flaming, mouth watering. Hannibal couldn’t see him, but he gave a ragdoll nod anyway. Somehow, even though all Hannibal had to go on was Will’s jerky breaths, he pronounced his approval again.

“Perfect boy. Then when you’re feeling much better, I’m going to slowly slide my hands over the front of your body, over your beautiful pectorals and down your stomach. I’ll pay special attention to the scar on your lovely stomach, stroking it, licking it...I’m afraid I must confess to obsession over the parts of you I have marked forever. You should feel even better, so I’ll slip down your pajama pants…”

“Hannibal, Hannibal…” Will was almost singing. He fought to keep himself aware that despite where he was in his mind, his body was very much married and very much present in the kitchen of his nuptial residence. He had to stop this.

“I’ll take you in hand,” Hannibal hummed. “I know how you like to be touched, I’ve been cataloguing small examples of it for my memory palace. Every time I’ve touched you, a graze of fingers, a cupping of hands, an exchange of body heat, I have noted your reaction, and Will, I’m confident I can have you screaming in bliss by the time I’m done. I have some of that apple brandy leftover from the galette, and I’d love to pour it all over you and lick it up _slowly_ , teasing you to the point of frustration, but you know I will always give you what you need at just the right time. When I am done, of course, it will only be to let you sleep. If it were up to me, I would do nothing but lavish you in my affection on a twenty-four hour basis. You can always have as much of me as you can take, and I imagine that is a great deal.”

“Will, are there any of those cookies left?” Molly asked casually, reappearing in the kitchen doorway, unfazed to see Will sitting at the table talking on the phone. His state of erotic stimulation was disguised under the table, and she might attribute the flush on his cheeks to the cold he supposedly had; ditto his watery eyes. “You know, the ones with the peanut butter chips?”

“The ones with the peanut butter, Will,” Hannibal purred. He truly was the devil incarnate.

“Yeah, um, they’re on top of the fridge, I think,” Will answered, immediately hanging up on Hannibal and placing the phone face-down on the table. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck_ Fuck!

“Great, thanks,” Molly smiled. “I’m sorry about earlier, I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat.” She extended the opened box of cookies like a peace offering. “Wally’s going to sleep over the Robinsons’. Wanna start a movie?”

“Sure, just give me a minute, I’ll be right there.” He tried to gather himself, broken bits and pieces that cut his sanity to ribbons. Smashed little teacup. How pathetic, but not to Hannibal.

“Who was on the phone?” Molly asked, only vaguely interested, or else projecting that mood intentionally.  


He knew she might still be harboring the suspicion of him having feelings for someone else; she was too smart to let it go that easily, even if she didn’t want to discuss it directly again tonight because she was tired. He knew he was exhausting. But not to--

“Nobody,” he said firmly, desperately wishing it was true.

He’d hung up on Hannibal right in the middle of their mostly one-sided but deeply emotional, shockingly sexual conversation. It felt like Hannibal’s emotions had just exploded all over him after being held under pressure for two years, but he was still all clamped down, miserably and forcibly contained. Surely Hannibal wouldn’t call again after Will was so rude, so dismissive, and he felt a shiver of horrible panic at the thought, to the extent he had to assure himself Hannibal _would_ call again to stave off a full-on anxiety attack. He couldn’t call the BSHCI himself; that would obviously raise all manner of red flags, and they needed to avoid such scrutiny. _”They”_? As in Will and Hannibal, “they”? When had that happened -- sometime in the last twenty minutes, or from the very first time their eyes met?

He wrapped himself up in a blanket on the couch and Molly snuggled up to him and they watched whatever the latest movie was on demand, but he couldn’t follow it even slightly. 

Instead, all he saw was Hannibal, ruthless and handsome and his, all he could smell despite Molly’s perfume was manly, spicy cologne, all he could hear was that rich accent and those sultry promises, and all he could do was wait.


	2. Chapter 2

Will let the dogs out when he got home from work, mid-afternoon a few days later. He nearly cried at the way they greeted him, leaping to rest fond paws on his chest, nuzzling into his petting. In their animal simplicity, the dogs couldn’t see him for the adulterous, mentally unhinged failure of a man he really was. He wondered, not for the first time, if this was why he had always loved dogs so much. They offered unconditional adoration and devotion, and he could give them the same without having to feel unworthy. 

Heavy-hearted, he brought them indoors again and filled their bowls in the kitchen, petting through their fur and chatting with them, giving them all the cheer he could summon, which wasn’t much. He was in a foul mood.

The dogs settled back in for a nap in the living room and he went upstairs, wishing he could stomp his way there in an immature burst of petulance, then tear apart every fake, pathetic facade of marital bliss around the bedroom. How he would love to smash every framed picture of him going through the motions with Molly, their arms around each other like they had a chance in hell of making this work. 

How could he have been so stupid, so reckless with someone else’s heart? So stubbornly blind to what was in his own?

He was so angry with himself for not being able to be good, normal and sturdy. The man Molly needed was the one he aspired to be, and that was what had drawn them together. Now they were being torn apart by who he really was, who Hannibal loved, because Will was deranged at his core and nothing could make the cannibal prouder. 

Will’s rage flared, towards himself and everyone around him for seeing through to his bitter, rotten interior and feeling appropriately repulsed. That wrath threatened to break free from his skin at any moment, birthing the sleek black stag from his nightmare, a beast designed to stalk through the world side by side with his relentlessly famished lover. But if he allowed himself to give into the slightest hint of the violence festering under his skin, there was no way to know if he would ever be able to stop. Within hours, he’d be bloodsoaked, knuckles aching and mouth full of raw human flesh, and it would be good, it would be righteous. He’d want Hannibal there with him and no one else, would want Hannibal to lick the blood and viscera from his body and tell him he’d done well, then show him just how proud--

The vision, drowned in a heady mix of sex and brutality, sent him into another excrutiating wave of guilty panic and he collapsed head-first into the bed, planning nothing prouder than a long, miserable cry.

His phone rang and his hand jolted out, snatching it up as he spoke shaky and hopeful into the receiver. After such an awful, miserable excuse for a day, what were the chances that this was the moment Hannibal actually managed to get another call through? 

“Yeah?”

“Good afternoon, Will,” Hannibal rumbled fondly, and just like that Will’s heart blossomed, warmly full and exhilarated. “I hope you’ll forgive my delay in calling back, but I wanted to take some time to investigate when you would be alone, so that we could have a nice, long chat without any annoying interruptions like the other night.”

He was so ridiculous, still getting his little digs in at Molly, who had done nothing wrong, and Will loved him more than ever just for being his petty, self-righteously snobby self. 

Will pressed the phone tight enough to his ear to hurt, trying to get closer to Hannibal’s liquid amber voice, like whiskey and smoky darkness, smothering him in delectable pain. “You found out when my class got out today, when Molly would be at work.”

“Do you like teaching at the local community college, Will? Basic criminal justice courses, perhaps a bit boring and banal, but so safe. Much better than educating students on criminal psychology and how to hunt a serial killer. We both know what demons lay in wait behind that door in your mind, should you ever open it again. Yet I have to assume that at the start of each new term, a student or two will try to coax you into discussing your past adventures. You are famous, after all. The man who brought down the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“I hate teaching there,” Will admitted. “They always want me to talk about you, but I keep you locked inside me, a secret just between us. I won’t let them have you.” He knew that the smile on his face, to any outside observer, would probably be chilling. It felt exceptionally good. 

“I had to do some kind of work,” he elaborated, “couldn’t just sit around here fixing boat motors and playing with the dogs; I needed a stronger sense of purpose, but the teaching feels hollow at best, insulting at worst.”

“Insulting, my darling?” Hannibal huffed. “Who would dare?”

“Today, one of my students interrupted my lecture to criticize my teaching methods,” Will recalled, “Then he asked the other students if they agreed that I seemed to be rushing through the material in some kind of strange daze. A few of them nodded, like they half-wanted to agree with him vocally but they felt sorry for me at the same time. It was...embarrassing. Infuriating. Afterwards, while they were working on their computers, the same student asked me for help, and I reached for the mouse on the PC instead of the trackpad on his laptop by mistake. He... made fun of me.”

Will thought he sounded so pathetic, like those days he spent crying alone on playgrounds after school bullies taunted the living daylights out of his fragile younger self.

“Did you think about killing that student?”

“Yes,” Will whispered, but he added more definitively, “Yes, but I won’t. For one thing, if I get caught, I won’t be able to talk to you anymore. And for another, it wouldn’t be the same.”

“As hunting and killing with me?” Hannibal prompted.

“Yes. I don’t know what’s come over me, since I heard your voice again. It’s like I’m falling apart.” Every word seemed to be a shard of the broken teacup, lodged cuttingly in his throat.

“I wish I could convince you that it’s okay to fall apart, Will. As for your students, they sound intolerably ungrateful and unforgivably rude. Don’t they know what a privilege it is to have the chance to learn from you? You’ve taught me more than I ever could have predicted.”

“I keep turning out to be a disappointment, I guess. Not some amazing heroic profiler, just a washed-up space cadet.”

“You’re magnificent. They are devastatingly lucky to even be in the same room with you, my Will. What I would give, the lengths I would go to, just to see you again, to be with you…”

“Why haven’t you? You don’t expect me to believe you couldn’t break out of there anytime you want.”

“You put me here.” So matter-of-fact. “I won’t leave until you ask me to.”

Oh. Hannibal had figured it out, the way Will had tricked him into turning himself in, rejected him so that imprisonment was suddenly the only chance he had to maintain a connection with Will, even so tiny a connection as Will’s always knowing exactly where Hannibal was. It had worked. 

Will felt the tie between them every day, the little red knot of yarn wrapped around his heart, choking off his bloodstream, the line of worn, soft thread winding its way across the miles to Hannibal’s cell, where the other end was tied off snugly around Hannibal’s heart, tight enough to draw blood every time one of them moved. After the self-imposed illusion of redemption through loving Molly had dissolved, Will had been left with no other source of true joy than the pain of that thread squeezing, a lethal embrace.

“If I ask you to escape, that would make this real,” Will worried, rubbing his face into the pillow, wishing it was Hannibal’s warm, broad chest, and that he could breathe in that obnoxiously expensive cologne he used to wear, wishing he felt those strong arms around him, large hands pressed to his back, anchoring him in a feeling of being entirely seen, needed and appreciated. 

“It’s always been real,” Hannibal reminded him. “It’s the new life you’ve built for yourself that is the deception.”

“I’m married. I shouldn’t be letting you talk to me like this, shouldn’t let you draw me into these insane fantasies, or prop me up with compliments as if my feelings for you are somehow okay, forgivable. I promised Molly--”

“You gave her promises that you could never honestly offer anyone else but me, my angel, but I forgive you. You have suffered enough for your mistakes; I think it is time you let go of them now. Is it really a surprise to find yourself incapable of keeping the vows that belonged to me, when you offered them to _her_? You make yourself stay in a relationship which does not make you happy, out of guilty obligation; you do a job that brings you nothing but stress and annoyance, because you think you need to prove yourself useful and maintain a shaky grip on that moral high ground, but Will. What about what _you_ want?”

“I don’t deserve to want anything at all,” Will said, still trapped in self-loathing.

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, beloved.” Hannibal was wistful, already spreading watercolors over canvas in Will’s mind, a paradise for them to fall into together. 

Will’s heart thundered. “You love me?”

“Above all else, my darling boy. You hold my heart, and whether you choose to crush it again or keep it safe and warm, I shall consider it the greatest honor of my life.”

Will sighed. “Now you tell me.”

“Yes,” Hannibal said simply, as if the emotional journey he had undertaken since the night of his arrest was anything less than astonishing. He had to break free from his own pride and fear of intimacy enough to allow himself to be open to Will, and now here they were.

For a few minutes, Will just lay there on his stomach, not comfortable but so perilously close to happy as Hannibal’s love confession echoed in his ear. The thread encircling his heart nudged a little tighter; soon he wouldn’t be able to breathe, and it would be divine. 

“Will,” Hannibal ventured into the thickly adoring silence between them, “do you ever watch pornography and masturbate, when you have some time to yourself at home?”

Will bit his lip and curled into a tight ball on his side. “Sometimes,” he said, aching.

“Do you search for videos with men in them who look like us?”

“Hardly ever, but...sometimes, yes. I try not to. After I’m done, I feel so empty...guilty and ashamed.”

“After you’ve done what, exactly, Will? Let me imagine it.” Hannibal’s tone slid elegantly musical down the words. 

“You take off all your clothes, perhaps...and since you can hardly keep a dildo in the house, you use your fingers. There are any number of items you might keep as lubricant without drawing your wife’s suspicion. 

And so you pump a few digits inside yourself in time with the thrusting in the video, and perhaps you almost feel like it’s me once the pleasure begins to build. You can just about manage to shove reality and your self-resentment away long enough to taste my kisses and feel me pounding into you like you deserve, feel my hands spanking and squeezing that incomparably tempting ass of yours, and then you’re shaking into orgasm, spurting all over yourself, making a glorious mess. Do you know how dearly I wish I could see you in such a beautifully debauched state? I would lap up every drop of your sweet release, taste it on your gorgeous, sweat-slicked skin. I want to feel your body underneath me while I’m deep inside, to feel you clenching me tight because you never want to let me go.”

Will closed his eyes, panting, getting hard and wanting Hannibal to keep talking forever, as if the words could make themselves come true. 

“You have nothing to be ashamed of. _Will._ It matters what you want. It’s okay for you to need this.”

“It’s not okay,” Will insisted, brushing back a tear as his voice wobbled. “I guess I’ve...spent most of my life assuming I must be doing something wrong at any given moment. I live in a sort of quiet panic most of the time. I don’t fit in anywhere so I have to pretend, cover up the shame of how weird and broken I am. The real me is so ugly, who would want--”

“Will, I want you to listen to me very closely,” Hannibal instructed, his own voice tight with emotion. “I want to show you exactly how beautiful you are to me, and what I plan to do about it the moment I have your invitation. Are you lying down on the bed?”

“Yes,” Will blurted eagerly.

“I suppose you freed yourself of your tweed blazer with the elbow patches and an ill-matching tie as soon as your class was over,” Hannibal guessed fondly. “Left your shoes downstairs on the mat by the front door. Placed your glasses on the dresser. I’d like you to unbutton your shirt for me, Will. Count each button as you go.”

“O-one,” Will obeyed, unfastening the first button on his soft blue shirt, then the second. “Two.” Hannibal listened in silence, aside from his breathing getting a bit heavier with each button. Three, four, five...

“Drop the shirt on the floor, then take off your trousers, underwear and socks,” Hannibal commanded. 

Will scrambled out of the remaining attire, since both of them had quickly lost patience with the original, more gradual pace Hannibal had set. With a swooning sigh, Will imagined all the things he could do to make Hannibal lose patience with him and take his body rough and hard, make him feel it for days afterwards, reignite the soreness by treating Will with equally merciless passion as soon as possible. 

“Put me on speakerphone, get your lubricant out, then prop a pillow under your behind. Lie down and get comfortable, can you do that for me, Will?”

“I’m nervous,” he admitted, placing the container of vaseline beside him on the bed and getting into position. His legs were trembling as he spread them, his erection flagging slightly. “I can’t relax.”

“Eyes closed,” Hannibal soothed. “Breathe in and out, nice, full, long breaths. Center yourself in the here and now. I’m here with you now, Will, and it’s the only place I want to be. I’m going to make love to you. Are you ready for me, angel?”

Will groaned as his cock twitched back to attention and a roiling wave of heat spilled through his whole being in anticipation. “Yes, Hannibal.”

Will knew perfectly well why he had so often avoided calling Hannibal by his first name when they conversed. He was incapable of speaking those three syllables as anything other than a sacred, poetic prayer resonating from the depths of his soul and the helpless craving that lived there, coiled around the name, repeating it ad infinitum. Yes, to say “Dr. Lecter” had always been far safer, but not anymore.

“When I kiss you the first time," Hannibal sighed, "I won’t be able to stop. The taste of your mouth and your ardent reciprocation, the way you’ll melt into my every attention, giving me your tongue and your teeth, showing me how much you want this...I’ll moan, just with the first feeling of friction between our bodies, the moment our cocks brush, both hard and straining through our clothes. I’ll lose control of myself and rip your clothes off; I will need so badly to worship your perfect body and show you how it was made for me to love. Will, I want you to lick your fingers, then circle your nipples. Squeeze them for me, be rough.”

Will followed every command, moaning and licking his lips, the harsh tweaking of his nipples combining with the throaty rasp of Hannibal’s voice to make his cock fill out, thick and needy. 

“I’ll wrap my arms around your neck, so tightly, I want your mouth closer, all over me, I want you to devour me,” Will gasped. “God, you taste so good, like the richest, most sumptuous wine. You make me drunk.”

“Good. Such a good boy, sweetheart. Hold on tight. I’ll have my hands on your ass while we’re kissing, and I’ll lick your ears, your neck...my teeth are very sharp, Will. I’ll bite you until you’re wriggling in pain…”

“Begging you to fuck me,” Will finished the sentence effortlessly as his hard-on throbbed. “Please, Hannibal, I want you inside me. I’ll lick you first, suck you, swallow you down...get you ready. I want to taste you on my tongue, hot and heavy and all mine. I want you thrusting down my throat, using me…I know you’re big. I used to...notice, when we got close physically, or you were staring at me from across the room during our sessions, and I knew you were turned on. I wanted to take your cock out, fall to my knees before you, but I always held back...And now you’re… _ohhh_...”

The vision was so close to tangible, the weight of Hannibal’s salty, hot flesh in his mouth almost enough to taste, and he was dizzy, needing so much more. He went on playing with his achingly taut nipples since Hannibal hadn’t given him permission to move his hand lower, but his hips began to rise and fall rhythmically, his cock now so hard it hurt, begging for attention.

“Now I’m thrusting deeper into that tight heat, into the scrumptious suction you’ve made for me...your mouth is so good, baby,” Hannibal sighed, a hectic catch in his breathing making Will sure he was touching himself as well. “Tight and warm, and I want to come down your lovely throat, but even more than that I want to fuck you. First I’ll taste your perfect, beautiful hole. I lavish my tongue all over and get you nice and wet for me, then open you with my fingers, wanting to be patient, but dying, dying to have all of you.”

“Don’t go slow, don’t be gentle,” Will begged. “Use me, I’m yours. Do what you want with me.”

”I will. You’re stunning like this, worked up and pleading, on the edge of desperation for me, right where you belong. I want you to grip your cock now, stroke it for me. Lube your other hand up and begin teasing your hole. I want us to come at the same time.”

“Yes,” Will cried, thinking he could come at the mere suggestion and therefore squeezing himself to keep in his enthusiasm, feeling the pleasure of the fantasy building inside him.

“Slide one finger in, up to one knuckle, then the next,” Hannibal commanded breathily. Will could picture him on his bed in the cell, one hand slipped into his uniform, slowly jerking his gorgeous cock. All for him. It was too much to bear, too perfect-- 

“Feels so good, _so_ good,” Will moaned, “I want it to be you.”

“It is me, baby. Add another finger, curve it, find that spot that pushes against your prostate; you know the one, don’t you, my darling? How you love to fuck yourself there and imagine it’s me, and how you torment yourself by doing it so infrequently. I know, I understand. You need it everyday, and it’s yours. I’m yours. Do you understand?”

Will stroked his cock and whimpered as he pressed his fingers to that special place inside him and felt an immediate jolt of bliss reverberate through his very bones. 

“Oh, _God_...yeah. I need that,” he sighed, feeling Hannibal’s big fingers gliding within him with increasing ease the more he opened. 

He was dripping with his lover’s saliva and well-lubricated with the vaseline, his muscles relaxing more with every press of his digits. It was easy and right, to float away on this cloud with the man he loved, away from every care in the world. He never wanted to come back down.

Hannibal’s tone grew raspier, aggressive and vulnerable at the same time. “I’m on top of you, with my hand tight on your throat, and I’m sliding my cock inside you, slow but firm, watching you take all of me, feeling your body pulling me in because of how much you need this, Will. Tell me you need me.” 

Will had never heard Hannibal sound so fragile before. He pictured his lover’s face, those elegant cheekbones and lush lips, the fire in his dark eyes that should scare him but just made him fall even deeper in love. Hannibal’s hair would drop across his brow in that sexy way it often did, and his normally cold, dignified features would contort in helpless rapture.

“I need you, Hannibal,” Will moaned, pumping himself harder and slamming his fingers in, lifting his legs up more and adding a third. 

It was a wild cacophony of sensations, like some kind of insane contest to see what would make him come first: the hard, insistent thrust of his hand inside, or stroking up and down his rigid cock, which was bulging, throbbing, weeping with precum. Or would it just be the next word Hannibal said that made Will lose his last remnant of control, the last illusion of his resistance to this obsession between them?

No one had ever, _ever_ made Will feel like this before.

Hannibal was so close he had stopped issuing orders, distracted in the powerful rise of pleasure within him. Will could do as he liked because by now, they didn’t need words to say what they both knew was happening.

Hannibal choked Will harder and fucked into him faster, getting so deep, finding just the right angle to hit his prostate every time until his body was overwhelmed with a pleasure he couldn’t have fathomed before this moment. 

“Close,” Will gritted out, and Hannibal’s response came back brokenly urgent: “Me, too, baby. Give it to me now, I need you to.”

They both shuddered, Hannibal exploding inside him with a savage groan as he rode out the orgasm and copious ropes of sticky cum burst from Will’s cock, splattering them both. They kissed over and over with bruising force and kept fucking up until the last moment their bodies would let them. When he finally had to withdraw from Will, Hannibal let out a pained moan that nearly broke Will’s heart.

“I don’t want to part from you, beloved,” Hannibal breathed raggedly as Will pulled his sticky fingers from his ass and released his overstimulated cock. He lay there with his eyes still closed, feeling Hannibal pressing fluttery, lost-in-love kisses of gratitude all over his face. 

“This is the part where you usually begin to hate yourself,” Hannibal guessed, his breath tickling Will’s neck. He gave an impertinently fierce bite and Will mewled, dragging his nails down Hannibal’s sweat-moistened back. “Don’t. Don’t let in any guilt, my darling. Be my good boy and treasure what we have, for it has been hard-won for us both. We can have it forever. I’ll always take care of you, just like this and in all things.”

Will nodded, crying because he could feel Hannibal pulling him into a post-coital snuggle and he needed it to last; he didn’t want to open his eyes to the bed he shared with Molly and the lonely, damning aftermath of his self-pleasuring. “I want to believe that.”

“You must,” Hannibal urged. “Now, sweetheart, we’ve run out of time--”

“No,” Will demanded, feeling like that wolf-cub again, trying to twist an unfair life to fit his greedy desire. He clung to Hannibal, kissing across his softly hairy chest, hitching a leg around his lover to keep him close. “Don’t leave me.”

“You know I never will. I’ll call you later...very early in the morning. Put your phone under your pillow on vibrate.”

“Hannibal, wait--”

“Until later, beloved,” Hannibal assured him before the line disconnected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part about a string tied from one heart to another is an allusion to Jane Eyre :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you're enjoying the story <3 <3


	3. Chapter 3

Left alone again, there was nothing Will could do to avoid the guilt, the realization of how fully he had betrayed Molly. Yet there was a magical kind of new beginning burgeoning, a sinfully resplendent temptation he could no longer shake. He wasn’t making anyone happy living a lie here, so what was the point of continuing? 

Hannibal’s words echoed in his head: _it matters what you want._

What if that was… _true_?

Will cleaned himself and the bedding, dressed again, then threw himself into any task he could possibly find around the house, scouring every single surface until it gleamed, banishing every stray particle of dust from each room, vacuuming and emptying the dishwasher, then starting dinner. 

All the while, his mind hurtled through a thousand possible plans and dreams of the future, how to end things with Molly in the most sensitive manner, how to get over the long list of reasons he had compiled through the years of why he must not ever give into his feelings for Hannibal. Where to begin, where to turn next?

For the first time in Will’s life, believing in himself, just _being_ himself, seemed like the best place to start.

He transferred the stew to the crock pot to keep it warm for another hour or so before Molly got home after picking Wally up from his friend’s. They would both be hungry, so Will made his heartiest Louisiana gumbo, a personal specialty. Impossible not to think about making the meal for Hannibal someday, impossible not to grapple with the choice he must make, to recognize this evening as potentially one of the last he would spend in this house, with this family. He couldn’t help but notice that the labor he’d started intending to absolve his guilty conscience had ended up feeling like his own way of saying goodbye to his wife and stepson.

Will took the dogs for a long walk through the woods, the crisp autumn air pleasing on his skin, leaving a pink flush in his cheeks as he strode for miles, his legs screaming in complaint after all that housework and how tired he truly was, but he kept going. The ache felt good, renewing somehow. The dogs scrambled merrily through the leaves, only Winston noticing Will’s inner upheaval and nudging his furry head against his master’s hand as Buster and Zoe barked and tumbled playfully in the distance. 

“I’m okay, buddy,” he smiled. “I’m just going through a very strange time...but I think it’s leading me somewhere. Maybe somewhere good, somewhere I can...belong.”

“Dinner smells amazing,” Molly regaled as Will arrived back home. “And how come this place is freaking _sparkling_ , did you hire the cleaners again? It’s not even Valentine’s Day.”

“It’s nothing,” he shrugged, finding that the only way he could preserve the illicit, delicate sense of joy in his heart was to avoid her eyes. 

What could he do? If he was going to run away with Hannibal, he couldn’t break up with Molly first. Thinking about it all day had made this clear. That break-up would be a flashing neon light to anyone paying attention (not least of all Molly herself) that the couple once termed “Murder Husbands” by Freddie Lounds might soon be on the lam together. 

If he seemed to be happily ensconced in his peaceful life here right up until the second he wasn’t, it would help immensely. Once Hannibal freed himself, the trail of blood he left behind was going to be trouble enough. They had to be ready to leave the second Hannibal was out, with secure locations lined up for miles and across oceans --

“You were supposed to get your ass to the doctor today, not wear yourself out with housework and nature walks with the dogs,” Molly chided, affectionately concerned. 

She looked at him like he was a puzzle, and Will knew her suspicion of his unfaithfulness lingered under the surface. They were living on borrowed time in this marriage, and the knowledge chafed against their good-natured personalities. Even two people as habitually giving as they were could only remain polite about this for just so long.

“I’ll be fine,” he said as breezily as he could, “the exertion did me good, so did the fresh air. I’m going to say hi to Wally.” 

Will dropped a kiss on her cheek as sad regret for what he used to think they could be seized his brain and Hannibal’s thread cut deeper into his heart, exultant and insisting. 

He found Wally on the couch watching a game on t.v. and sat with him for a while, pretending to enjoy the quietly pleasant companionship the two of them always shared, fellow introverts with an appreciation for such low-key interactions. 

Although he had wanted to be a father to Walter, their bond had always felt more like a vaguely awkward but well-meaning friendship. The kid was smart, sensed Will’s inability to relax here, maybe even intuited he wasn’t going to be a permanent fixture. Two and a half years of being in his life somehow hadn’t done anything to suggest otherwise. Affectionately, Will thought Wally was strong and would probably do just fine for himself in this life, avoid plenty of the pitfalls which he himself had plummeted down at every turn.

By bedtime, Will found himself restless again, tossing and turning as Molly slept soundly. He ruffled his hair impatiently, the phone stuffed under his pillow, his eyes wide open and bleary. A glance over at Molly’s pretty face, relaxed in slumber, brought another twinge of melancholy. How could he hurt his wife like this, what was he _doing_? How could he do anything else, when the sound of Hannibal’s voice breathed flesh onto his bones?

The battle of his conscience and heart was eventually interrupted at 2am when his phone finally vibrated. Will grabbed it and whispered a quick hello before throwing on his slippers and robe, then going out onto the porch to talk.

“The closer we get, the more I miss you,” Hannibal greeted, sounding jubilant and sad all at once. 

“Me, too,” Will smiled softly. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night, about how you used to touch me. Took any excuse you could get, as I recall. Did you know I always wanted more?”

“I noticed that you could never resist leaning into my touch. I had to be careful when and I how I bestowed it because part of me feared if I became too overt, you would pull away.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t only touched my hand or my shoulder briefly; haven’t only cupped my cheek or washed and bandaged me. You’ve hugged me, too,” Will’s voice scraped against the words, the memories. “You’ve held me in your arms twice, but only after you hurt me, then before you planned to hurt me again. Maybe that’s the only way you felt safe letting yourself get that close to me.”

“Maybe,” Hannibal allowed. “I did also carry you miles through the snow after I rescued you from facial surgery at Muskrat Farm; however, I cannot fault you for not citing the example as you were unconscious at the time.”

“My hero,” Will smirked.

“I used to fear the immensity of my love for you, that it threatened my individuality and freedom. I’m not afraid of it anymore.”

“Good for you,” Will said a little bitterly as tears welled up in his eyes, his throat tight. He seemed to be on a pendulum swing from hope to depression that wouldn’t let up. “You know what scares me? I would let you hurt me again in a heartbeat, if it meant you would hold me again.”

“Will--”

“That’s why I had to ‘confine you to a prison cell’,” Will elaborated, pacing the porch, raking a hand roughly over his chin and cheeks. “You were making me lose my mind. But being apart from you hasn’t solved a thing; I’ve only made it worse by dragging innocents into our mess.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Hannibal replied with quiet patience, “Your rejection shattered me. You had me entirely fooled when I surrendered to Jack; only endless days of solitude allowed me the reflection to understand the real motives behind your actions. You tricked me, a near-impossible feat, and more than once. Perhaps because I kept letting you. In an odd but undeniable way, it felt good, letting you win.”

“It does not. Make me feel any better.”

“I may need you in person to do that, my darling. Although this afternoon was nothing short of splendid. I will return to this day with you over and over in my palace...no matter what your ultimate decision is on my fate, I can never thank you enough for such a gift, sweet one.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Will fretted, “I’m not sweet, or darling, or angelic, what’s the point--”

“I think the point is that you are all of those things to _me_ , Will..” Hannibal paused thoughtfully. “How do you see me?”

“A black stag, or often a wendigo, shadowing my every move, breathing down my neck, leaving trickles of blood and black oil when your nails and teeth sink in.” Will sat down on the swing by the front door, cradling the phone between his neck and shoulder to tug his robe a little tighter and ward out the cold night air. “A creature sublimely austere, endlessly malicious, but loyal to me alone, placing its thorn-entangled, cruel heart in my hands in willing sacrifice.”

Hannibal sucked in a breath. “A potent image. I’m afraid the reality is far less glamorous at the moment.”

“You?” Will laughed, “Not glamorous? Come on now, we both know that’s impossible. Are you worried you won’t live up to my expectations?”

“In fairness, nearly three years is a long time to be building them up.” For some reason, it was the glimmer of insecurity in Hannibal’s warm voice that pushed Will over the edge into making the decision. Maybe he ought to hesitate under the suspicion that Hannibal might be manipulating him again, but the fact that he didn’t care felt bizarrely, almost euphorically freeing.

“Will, I’m not going to promise you that I can give up my unconventional appetites, but I can vow never to lie to you again. My feelings and intentions are sincere where you are concerned, infinitely so--”

“Hannibal,” Will interrupted, “Listen, I--”

“I simply need you to know that I’m past being concerned with my sacred autonomy or needing to hunt simply on the basis of flimsy instances of rudeness; for you I can alter my patterns.”

“Hannibal, will you please--”

“Will, I’ve been thinking about this for quite some time, please let me finish. I know why you’re unhappy in your current job, how you must miss being able to unfurl your talents and punish bad people. Together, we can hunt the worst, most deplorable scum the world has to offer. We’ll find bigots, abusers and whomever else you deem guilty, and in that way we can both enjoy our proclivities. What do you think?” Hannibal probably had to stop blathering because he’d run out of breath, Will assumed.

“Well, if you would let me talk for one goddamned minute, I’d _tell_ you,” Will rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I like the sound of your voice just as much as you do, honey. I’m ready; I’m saying yes. Just tell me when.”

“An old friend will be in touch.” That’s all Hannibal had to say for Will to know he meant Chiyoh. Will wasn’t exactly sure what kind of terms he’d left off on with Chiyoh, come to think of it, but he would find out soon enough.

“You also have to promise me you’ll never hurt Molly or Walter, and that’s non-negotiable,” Will insisted.

“She took you away from me,” Hannibal snapped with an audible pout. 

“No one has ever been capable of taking me away from you, Hannibal. You, however, are stealing me away from her, and in an absolutely shameful manner which is personally going to have me feeling like the world’s biggest jerk for years to come. The least you can do is leave the two of them in peace, since they’ve never been anything but kind to me after _you_ sliced my head open and tried to eat my--”

“You’re ranting, Will. For what it’s worth, I regret the brain-eating attempt. It was a particular low point for me.”

“Oh, really? ‘For what it’s worth’?” Will’s brows shot up and he laughed sardonically. “Is that your version of an apology? Cause honey, if this is going to work between us, you are going to have to do better than that. You know you’re going to annoy me about a million times a day.”

Hannibal responded with a martyr’s sigh. “I’m so grateful to those corrupt polizia for interrupting my miserable attack on you, I can hardly express it in words. The moment I saw them, I came to my senses and understood I’d been given a second chance with you. I will never waste it. And Will, I’m fairly certain I’ll only annoy you about a hundred times a day, and that I will make up for every perceived offense by making you the happiest man alive. That is the only dream I have that’s worth living for.”

“Jesus, you really know how to lay on the schmaltz,” Will blushed. He scratched the back of his neck, where a rash seemed to spread every time Hannibal started talking in hopelessly romantic terms. It made Will grapple with the idea that he might actually deserve to be treasured and adored like that. He hated it and loved it. “You just won’t let me hide behind my bluster of sarcasm, will you?”

“Heavens, no, my love, not after you called me ‘honey.’”

“I thought you might have picked up on that,” Will chuckled.

“Twice,” Hannibal noted proudly, as if Will bestowing the pet name on him was the most special compliment he had ever received.

“I’ll see you soon,” Will murmured as he heard a rustling noise from inside, probably Molly or Wally either using the bathroom or going into the kitchen for a glass of water. “I have to go now, honey.”

“I love you, Will.”

Will hung up, refusing to say those three words until he could look into Hannibal’s eyes as he said them. He was perhaps slightly satisfied by the idea of making Hannibal wait as well. But he wasn’t going to wait much longer at all.

The next few days dragged by, especially since Hannibal was only able to call once over the weekend, but finally Wednesday morning arrived. Chiyoh had indeed contacted him, letting him know the plan, that today would be the day. He was in the kitchen with his battered leather messenger bag hanging off one shoulder, as if he was preparing for another typical morning of teaching, when Molly slapped a folder beside him on the counter.

“Good morning,” Will said confusedly, brows knitted as he flipped the folder open.

“Morning,” Molly snipped. She poured herself a coffee without making eye contact, then sat down at the table.

Will stared down at the paperwork, his mouth falling open. The travel mug of coffee in his hand splashed all over the counter and his fingers as he jolted, narrowly avoiding the folder’s contents. “These are divorce papers.”

Molly shot him a grim smile. “Yeah they are, _honey_. I know you were a good FBI agent and a passable college professor, but do yourself a favor and don’t ever try to go into the spy business, okay? I’ve been onto you since the first night he called.”

Alright, so Will hadn’t done a very good job of hiding his love for Hannibal when he’d recounted the tale to her soon after they first met, with the understanding that it wasn’t something he liked to talk about, and the conversation was something to get out of the way. At the time, he’d been slightly paranoid that his obsessive leanings towards the cannibal might have slipped through the cracks of his traumatized recollections and into Molly’s understanding, and this confirmed it.

So when she walked in on him that first night in the kitchen, clutching the phone, probably looking like an electrified kitten, Molly might have had a guess as to who was on the line.

And she had obviously overheard the phone call out on the porch last Tuesday at 2am, maybe pieced the rest of what was going on together by the way he seemed to be subtly preparing for a change, the way he was especially nervous and on edge last night, barely communicative. Already away, somewhere else altogether, with the destination no longer a mere reverie, but a foregone conclusion.

Will turned around to face her fully, blinking slowly, gaining insight into what Molly’s ordeal had been all this time. “Molly, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

She glared. “I know. You wanted me to find out when you suddenly disappeared and then by some crazy coincidence America’s most feared psycho-killer broke out of the BSHCI a few hours later. Subtle.”

Despite her condescending attitude and obvious bitterness, her lower lip wobbled, and Will came closer to place a hand on her shoulder. “I never wanted to hurt you or lie to you, I just didn’t know what else to--”

“Sure, you did!” She whisper-shouted. Walter had already left for the school bus, but Will got the feeling Molly was keeping her voice as quiet as possible to avoid losing control of herself and screaming her head off at him. 

She stood and put her hands on her hips. “All you had to do was be true to me, Will, like you promised. Haven’t you been happy here with us? We’ve been good for you. I thought you were moving on from all that madness with Hannibal _fucking_ Lecter, but you’ve been holding onto him this whole time. All it took was one damn phone call to reel you back in.”

Will's eyes stung with tears. He was learning more and more by the second what it felt like to be a villain. He could no longer redeem himself by any stretch of the imagination; even the honesty he offered was an affront, a revelation of his depravity. “You _were_ good for me, Molly. But I’m not good for you, or for Walter. I could only be here if I covered up an entire side of my personality and focused just on the one you could stomach. And believe me, I don’t blame you for not wanting the rest of me. It’s a nightmare.”

Molly swallowed hard, her own eyes wet, cheeks red with the prideful exertion of holding back from crying. “So I only love half of you, but Hannibal loves all of you, right? You never even gave me a chance to do that.”

One side of Will’s mouth tweaked in a humorless smile. “You wouldn’t want to. I dream about doing awful things, _bloody_ , bloody things, Molly, and I wake up terrified by the thrill of it. It’s the only time I’m happy all day.”

She nodded. “I heard you _negotiating_ on our behalf, by the way. Thanks a lot for that. I’m thrilled you two were able to deem us worthy of survival.”

Will decided not to split hairs, although Hannibal definitely wanted Molly dead, in as brutal a manner as possible, for having ever laid a finger on him.

Molly wiped up the spilled coffee from the counter, then from Will’s hand, speaking quickly and avoiding eye contact, clearly just wanting this done, wanting him out now, no more room for sympathy or affection or even the merest suggestion of forgiveness. 

“Do me a favor and sign those papers so that unlike you intended, I won’t be stuck married to a cheater who abandoned me. In exchange for you keeping that lunatic away from Walter and me, I’ll hold onto the papers for a while, won’t move on them for a couple weeks. Let you and Mr. Wonderful get a head start running away to wherever without calling Jack Crawford.”

She tossed the towel into the sink and crossed her arms, leaning against the opposite counter as Will chewed his lip and nodded. “Okay,” he said, “But Molly, I really am, even more than I can say, so sorry -- and about Walter--”

“You don’t fucking say my son’s name,” Molly fumed. “Please, Will, just sign those papers and get out of here before I change my mind. Calling the feds on you is only going to bring Hannibal down on me, because I know eventually he’ll escape anyway. You told me you thought it was inevitable, and what do you know better than you know him? But God, I really want to scream this house down and sic the authorities on you in the worst way.”

“Molly--” He looked down at his shoes, wishing there was some way she could ever understand how badly he had wanted their love to be real, to work, to last. How he wanted to be a good dad to Walter. How despite all those sterling intentions, he was murdering himself in little bits and pieces every day just to be here with them. How when it came to Hannibal, he could not help himself.

“When you proposed, you were thinking about him. At the altar, exchanging our vows. Making love to me. Every night at dinner. When we took Wally camping, when we had our calm arguments, so pathetically polite and _reasonable_ , it was tiresome because you were thinking about him. Always.”

No more point in lying. “Yes.” Will raised mildly accusatory eyes to her blazing indigence. “But you knew that, the whole time?”

“I thought if I could love you well enough, I could blot him out of your head, I could save you. Keep you safe from Hannibal until you didn’t want him anymore.”

How noble, yet in its own way, self-serving, even a bit condescending, a familiar taste of the way Jack and Alana handled him with kid gloves so they could get what they needed from him, only as much as they could handle without having to deal with the ugly parts. Will realized the deception in this marriage had been mutual, and a bit of the guilt ebbed back.

“I _hate_ this, and hurting you and Walter is that last thing I ever wanted. I was a blundering idiot this whole time, but for you to love me enough that I’d stop loving _Hannibal_?”

Will’s voice tilted and caressed over the name in that special way of his: “ _Hannn_ -i-bahl." 

“There just isn’t a love big enough to do that,” he finished in absolute certainty, his eyes darkening as much as his tone.

“Sign the papers and get out,” Molly snapped, storming upstairs to give him space to complete this task. "And you're welcome, for taking care of your damn dogs!"

The dogs. Before he left, he could say a special goodbye to each one of them, full of gratitude for their unconditional devotion, regretful he couldn't bring them along. They would be safe here, loved and tended every day, and where he was going was anything but safe. Still...perhaps if Will and Hannibal were actually able to start a new life together without instead being apprehended and jailed, or murdering each other in the process, if they shared a home...in that home, he would love for them to welcome some new dogs. Maybe even a puppy, to start.

He snorted a laugh at the idea of Hannibal dealing with the training needs of a cute but obnoxiously wild and messy little pup, and at the same time realized he wasn't all that worked up about leaving Molly anymore. Break-ups hurt, but staying in an empty, rotting pretense of a relationship accomplished nothing.

Will signed every sheet neatly, then refilled his coffee mug and slung his bag back onto his shoulder, another tangible reminder this was real. No school work inside, not even his laptop; just some travel snacks, basic supplies and a few simple changes of clothes, plus his wallet. For now, there was nothing else he needed. Slipping his wedding ring off, he placed it on the counter atop the folder containing the divorce papers. There now, that was done, finished, and in many ways, ways he could not predict in this moment, so was he. 

An hour later, he was driving away, towards his destiny, towards Hannibal, no turning back ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As so often happens, the story is turning out to be a bit longer and more complicated than I expected...there's also a twist in the next chapter that took me by surprise when I realized it had to happen! Hope you're enjoying and thanks for reading as always <3


	4. Chapter 4

Foliage fell in crisp, bright shades of orange, red and yellow from the tall trees nearby, and the sky was an exultant blue. Will thought it seemed that everything was normal, nature showing off her autumnal glory as if this wasn’t the last American fall he was going to see for a very long time. Yet he would always think of his reunion with Hannibal as coming in the fall, and would hold the season with special fondness in his heart no matter how many years it was before they could actually enjoy it in person together. He wondered whether that was even possible, or if their actions meant lifelong banishment from the country of his birth. Even that didn’t matter, not when his memory palace held every small recollection in such profound accuracy, impeccable film reels of golden leaves and pleasantly chilly winds to peruse at his leisure. No other loss held meaning, not if he could be with Hannibal.

Chiyoh, if not exactly pleased to see Will, was affable enough in her own elegant, infinitely polite way. She provided him with money, fake id’s and the location of an airfield where a plane would be waiting to take Will and Hannibal to Cuba.

“I knew it all along that you and he were more than nakama,” Chiyoh observed as they stood side by side, leaning against his car, which was parked midway in his journey on an obscure, rustic sideroad. “Closer to teki, enemies.” Even she had to smile at that as Will chuckled. 

“Closer to koibito than anything else at all,” she added as the bracing wind tossed raven locks around her poised, delicately amused features.

“Lovers,” Will guessed, his blush deepening. Chiyoh nodded. 

“Why didn’t you mention it to me when we met? Or you know, instead of throwing me off the train or shooting me in the courtyard, you could have warned me, slapped me upside the head and told me I was in love and to stop lying to myself about it.”

“What do I know about love?” Chiyoh’s shoulders shifted in the most dainty shrug he had ever seen. “How could I know if I would be helping or harming either of you by encouraging such a union? Even now, part of me fears what you will become together.”

“Whatever we become will be our destiny,” Will answered smoothly, much more than resigned, high on the idea. “Perhaps my greatest lesson in this whole mess has been not to fight fate. It’s so much more trouble to everyone than it’s worth in the long run. So, am I allowed to ask how you are? What are you up to these days?”

Chiyoh gave him a rare grin. “You are allowed to ask. Good luck, Will.” 

“Hey, one more thing,” he called when she turned and walked away, a few paces towards her own vehicle. 

Chiyoh looked back, curious, and he gestured at his nicely pressed black shirt and tailored grey suit. Even in the whirlwind of emotion surrounding his departure, he had done his best to dig through his closet for something you wore to pick up your boyfriend from the hospital for the criminally insane and run away together. He fiddled with his glasses and cleared his throat.

“How do I look?”

“Ready,” she told him cooly.

With that, she slipped back into her chic rented cadillac and drifted over the horizon in the opposite direction from his own. Wherever she was going, Will was glad to see she must be making a life for herself now, free from watching over the prisoner at Lecter Castle, still loyal by nature, quick to help family as needed but able to find her own destiny, too. 

As for his own fate, Will knew he was supposed to drive to the airfield and wait for Hannibal. But he couldn’t shake the worry that something might go wrong during the escape, even with Hannibal’s formidable skills and the knowledge that at least one nurse was thoroughly under his thrall. Alana was no fool, and she would have ironclad measures in place to prevent her most elite patient from breaking out. He had to know Hannibal was okay, couldn’t wait around in some field obsessively fretting over it, so he drove to the BSHCI, then strode up to the front door, blinking in the late afternoon sunlight as if this was the most normal thing in the world. In some wildly perverse way, it actually felt like it was.

After all, Hannibal was here. Given a release from the chains he’d placed on his own choices, where else would Will be? 

As Will pushed open the front door, there was no one to greet him, only an ear-splitting racket of blood-curdling screams which doubtless emanated from the unfortunate staff, their deaths a necessary means of Hannibal’s departure. Will’s walked down the hall past the registration desk where a nurse was slumped over, organs and blood gushing freely on the floor. Will's expression remained nonchalant but his heart slammed his ribcage in overpowering anticipation. Nothing he saw phased him, as this was only to be expected, and he knew he was equally responsible for the massacre since he was the one who told Hannibal to break out. He had harbored no illusions about what that would entail.

Will had let go of his need to keep his hands clean, and now his breaths came even and honest. Instead of the horror he ought to register at the woeful display of carnage, he felt detached, perhaps mildly entertained and amused, not enough to distract him from why he was here.

“Will,” Hannibal said in surprise when Will reached him, rounding a corner to find the previously white, sterile corridor splashed in a Picasso-worthy output of blood and guts. 

Hannibal straightened from the body he’d been mangling roughly in his hands, a last pop of broken bones sounding. He looked for all the world like he wanted to pull himself together a little to look his best, the way you would if you suddenly saw your crush in the school hallway.

His hair was shorter than Will had ever seen it and grey now, his skin a bit less golden-tanned than it had been, showing the effect of almost three years lived entirely indoors. The white jumpsuit he wore shouldn’t have looked good on anyone, clinging as it did to every inch of the wearer’s physique in a way no one generally preferred. To make matters worse, the uniform was soaked in fresh blood.

But as the sun snuck in through a nearby high window to cast flickering light on Hannibal’s regal cheekbones and the euphoric gleam in his brown eyes, Will’s heart skipped a beat. Some things never changed, and one such incontrovertible fact was Hannibal Lecter’s remarkable beauty. The bloody jumpsuit was obnoxiously sexy, too. It matched Hannibal, matched the gritty-tender magic of this moment between them.

“You were supposed to wait at the airfield,” Hannibal chided.

He casually wiped his hands off on the nearest victim -- there were four crudely piled between them -- and began slowly striding for Will. 

“I wanted to make sure you were able to extricate yourself from here without undue complication,” Will replied, casting him a teasing smirk that belied his enormous love, his nearly uncontainable happiness at seeing Hannibal again. 

Will felt entirely rejuvenated, like a light switch had come on inside him, reminding him what gave life meaning. After years of living six feet under the piled dirt of his self-imposed exile into guilt and dread of his own truth, he could breathe.

A nurse made an ill-advised attempt to lunge back up at Hannibal, squinting through blood-fogged eyes and clutching his stomach where his organs were half-protruding. Hannibal stomped down on the nurse’s chest, slamming him ruthlessly to the floor as he flashed a grin at Will, blood dripping from his pretty fangs. 

“Naughty boy, Will.”

They stood there eye-fucking each other until Will was tempted to end the tease and let Hannibal take him here and now, right in the middle of this lurid display of grisly demise. But just then, a voice piped up behind Will. The sound was even, self-assured, and clear as a bell.

“Hello, Will.”

Will spun around to see Alana standing there with her hand over a gun strapped beneath her jacket. Hannibal neatly folded his hands behind his back. His naturally aristocratic demeanor was fucking adorable in the circumstances, but this was not a development which gave Will much time to process otherwise endearing moments.

“Alana,” he said dryly, bestowing a cordial nod. He laid a hand on his own gun, knowing perfectly well that even with his old shoulder injury, he was the faster draw. 

Will’s eyes flicked with passing interest over Alana’s pursed, ruby lips and glamorous hairstyle, then the cut of her white pin-striped pantsuit. “You look smart.”

“Thanks,” she retorted, not taking her eyes off Hannibal for a second. “You don’t, Will.”

“You were supposed to be at a conference today, Alana,” Hannibal reminded her. “I had not intended this encounter. I don’t have the necessary time for a proper farewell, after all you have done for me during my stay.”

“You don’t have to do this, Will,” Alana replied, rudely ignoring Hannibal. “There’s still a life for you away from this madness he keeps tempting you into -- you’re _better_ than this.”

“No, see, Alana, that’s what you never understood.” Will’s smile was hollow, words jaded but certain. “I’m not better than this at all. I _am_ this.”

_This is my design._

“It’s not too late,” Alana said, still looking rather foolishly sure he might come to his senses anytime now. “I’ll call Jack and get us some help so we can manage this situation.”

“So you can make sure Hannibal stays here, that he never sees the light of day outside this place again,” Will suggested.

“You know it’s what we have to do. It’s what’s right,” Alana claimed. “You’re a good man, Will; don’t lose sight of that now.”

“I wonder if you ever knew me,” Will remarked curiously, nibbling his lower lip.

“It’s quite alright if you choose to assist Alana, Will,” Hannibal chimed in. “I accepted this as a potential eventuality when I began calling you. If Jack arrives, I highly doubt he will be able to resist killing me as I fight all attempts to contain me. Know that it was worth it, even if I die today, just to hear your voice one more time.”

“He’s _playing_ with you, Will,” Alana shouted, trying to snap him into awareness of the fact. “All he’s ever done is manipulate you for his own advantage.”

“Maybe at first,” Will considered, his palm sinking incrementally deeper into his holster, “But not anymore, not for a very long time. Or he’s only twisting me into shapes I like to be in.” He recalled all too well that even being dismantled by Hannibal while a hallucinating, sleepwalking mess of a man with an undiagnosed brain on fire had its moments of dreamy, broken rapture.

“Now, the only one trying to _manipulate_ me is you.” Will’s eyes narrowed, resentful but also calculating for time and speed, the risk Alana was planning to take at this very moment.

“I have to save you from yourself,” she declared.

Hannibal took a step closer and she shook her head vehemently. “Hannibal, don’t move! Will, if he moves even one more time, I’ll--”

“I’m not going to tell him what to do,” Will said calmly. “That’s not the way our relationship works. So I guess all three of us are just going to have to do whatever comes naturally.”

Hannibal gave Alana a deadly intent look and stepped forward again, and Will saw the split second decision to fire her weapon on the killer as it blazed across her face. 

But before she could draw her gun and take Hannibal down, Will shot her in the head, clear and precise. 

Smoke billowed from the impressive hole he had left in her forehead and clear to the back of her skull as she collapsed to the floor, mouth still open in shock. Even when she was readying to kill Hannibal right in front of him, she never believed Will would hurt her.

The gun hung heavy in Will’s hand, and suddenly it seemed weirdly hard to keep a grip on the weapon. He realized he was trembling from head to toe as he stared at Alana’s blank-eyed form now joining the other corpses in the hallway, a red puddle slowly seeping from what remained of her skull, remnants of her brain splattered in the mess.

Unlike when he killed Hobbs, there was no splash of blood to blur his glasses and his view of what he had just accomplished, only the simple, cold hard fact of Alana’s wrist twitching before her hand fell limp for the last time.

“I can’t wholly believe you just did that,” Hannibal admitted, arriving at his side and gently taking the gun from his hand, sliding it back into the holster at his hip. The gesture was noticeably intimate, comfortable and familiar. They were partners in crime, enemies no longer. 

“Sh-she was going to kill you, I had to--” Will turned huge blue eyes to Hannibal, trying desperately to understand why he couldn’t stop shaking. 

Somewhere in the dazed inundation of conflicting emotions, Will was all too aware of the mounting ecstatic rush inside him, the way it felt to take a life, to enact his own sort of justice on a cruel world, shape it to his own design. It was very nearly orgasmic, especially because Hannibal had been watching.

And wasn’t this what he wanted, to give into his dark side at last, to finally _become_? Even now, with her body still warm, he didn’t regret her death; it was necessary, but so very, very odd, to kill his friend. Different from it might feel to hurt someone he never cared for, or someone he hated because they were repugnant human scum. Perhaps the part of Will who had once sought solace in Alana’s kind friendship was wounded to be the one to take that kindness away from the world, away from Margot and the son he had heard about during their brief, cordial email exchanges.

But Alana’s kindness towards him had always been partially artificial, like she was humoring a wayward child, trying to protect the world from Will without getting close enough to hurt herself on his sharp edges. 

And while he would have preferred not to leave Margot a widow and deprive their son of one parent, much preferred it, anyone who threatened Hannibal was fair game and had to be removed from the world with brutal efficiency.

Turning to face Hannibal fully, Will swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded, affirming the truth to himself, pleasure in this accomplishment fighting fast-receding ethics. “I had to protect you.”

“My hero,” Hannibal smiled, cupping Will’s face, leaving a bright red trail across it where his thumb grazed Will’s cheek in soothing circles. 

Hannibal shivered slightly, tears welling in his eyes, and Will could only imagine what it felt like to touch him now, after having lived in a cell for so long without the slightest shred of affection, least of all physical, from anyone. 

“I missed you,” Will sighed, grabbing Hannibal into a vice-grip hug that took Hannibal’s breath away. 

Maybe it was far too much, to inundate Hannibal with such intense physicality after a long period of touch deprivation, but this was exactly what they both needed so badly that it hurt, the longing bone-deep and tunneling further into hidden parts of their hearts and memory palaces by the moment. 

“I missed you _so_ much,” he sobbed into Hannibal’s shoulder, gripping him with all his strength, as if the man would disappear if he let up on the fervent pressure.

“And I you, beloved, but come -- we need to leave now or risk finding this our mutual residence.” Hannibal grinned again as they pulled back and looked into each others’ adoring eyes. “I don’t know about you, Will, but when it comes to us cohabitating, I have quite a different idea of how we might spend our time.”

“I’ve got a change of clothes for you,” Will smiled, shaking his head at Hannibal’s maniacal appearance, how the bloody uniform clashed with the sweetly delighted look on his face. “Go and wash up in the bathroom, best you can, and I’ll bring them.” He nudged a finger between Hannibal’s lips and traced his teeth, aroused, fascinated, still in shock over several different changes happening all at once. 

He was getting divorced, he was running away from his safe life, he was aiding and abetting Hannibal’s murder spree and escape, he was a full-fledged murderer himself now -- he had killed Alana. And he was standing here with the man he loved, finally letting that love shine out of his face and pour into his every gesture. The world was upside down and finally made sense.

“Brush your teeth, for fuck’s sake,” Will smiled, and then they both laughed, tears of happiness and residual sadness for the years apart and all the mistakes and hurts between them still streaming down both of their faces, mixing with blood to make strange pink smears.

“You think what you’re processing is grief or even guilt, but it’s not,” Hannibal said matter-of-factly once they were in the car. 

Will got them onto the highway, endeavoring against the thrust of his adrenaline to obey speed limits, and sighed. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hannibal, intently. Noticed the loose fit of his clothing which Chiyoh had provided, the soft heather grey sweater hanging from his slimmer frame, and knew Hannibal had turned his nose up at prison food, even the best version of it. He saw the slight increase of cute age lines fanning around Hannibal’s eyes and felt the immensity of the time lost between them, time they should have had together, but all of this simply added up to another realization that Hannibal was incomparably handsome, gracefully ferocious in a way that never ceased to amaze him.

“Really, Doctor?” Will quirked a brow and refocused on the road. If he kept staring at Hannibal’s gorgeousness, all the tiny nuances of it, or paused to analyze pointless regrets, he would surely get them into an accident.

“No indeed. Your shaking was caused by excitement, not horror or regret.”

“That old thrill?” 

“You enjoy killing, enjoy it to an incredible extent which makes me so very proud, Will. It is a lovely thing, to watch you take a life. Of course, it cannot compare with seeing you kill someone who you feel genuinely has it coming, such as Garret Jacob Hobbs or Randall Tier, and I know how much you prefer using your hands rather than a coldly clinical device such as a gun. Still, to watch how you move, agile and cruel, and to watch your eyes light up in the pure satisfaction of complete power is a singular honor.”

“Alana didn’t want to date me because she would always be analyzing me,” Will noted, granting Hannibal a tight smile. “That doesn’t seem to be a deterrent for you.”

“I may not be a practicing psychiatrist anymore, Will, but observing is still what I do. I still can’t turn it off, and you are my favorite person to observe. I’ve always privately suspected that you enjoy the attention nearly as much as I enjoy bestowing it.”

“Ha,” said Will wryly, “It’s kind of like being the sole recipient of sunlight and wondering what makes me so special.”

“Everything,” Hannibal sighed, lifting Will’s hand to his cheek, pressing it there for a moment before transferring it to his lips for a quick kiss. He was holding himself back, and Will couldn’t help but think of Hannibal’s previous remark, that once he really began kissing Will, he would not be able to stop.

The adrenaline and the fear and the weird semi-mourning over Alana seemed to part before Hannibal’s sunlight again like the curtains in his mind where he kept his fondest memories. Will’s shoulders dropped slightly, eased by the warmth of Hannibal’s lips on his skin, even by the way Hannibal shivered again and let him go. Knowing that they were mutually vulnerable, openly so, was calming, entirely centering.

“For better or worse?” He murmured, staring at the road.

“Till death do we part,” Hannibal confirmed, just before a new edge entered his tone. “How is Molly, by the way?”

“She’s divorcing me. Figured out that I was talking to you, and why. Trusted me when I said she and Walter would be safe. In turn, she’s promised not to alert the authorities to our plans. How quietly were you able to leave off at the BSHCI?”

“Entirely, for the time being,” Hannibal said tartly. “Rose, the nurse who was so kind as to assist me in my extracurricular endeavors, cut off the phone lines before letting me out of my cell. No one has yet been alerted to my farewell gestures or departure.”

“You killed her, too? Rose?”

Hannibal smiled at the feel of the fresh air coming in through the half-opened window, and at Will's reaction. “She asked me to. I hope you’ll forgive me for tampering with an innocent person’s mind in such a way, but I was intolerably bored without you.” 

“I would expect nothing less,” Will sighed in loving aggravation like they had been married for twenty years. “So we have a strong head start.”

“We’ll be gone from this life by the time anyone likely discovers the scene. I’m hoping you’ll see your first Havana sunrise through the window of our descending plane.”

Will shifted his grip on the steering wheel and thought of what was just about bound to occur once the two of them were finally away from all these complications, alone in a room together. Fire licked his skin from the inside and made him grow flushed, pleasurably agitated and tense all over.

He glanced over at Hannibal again, charting a course of his passion over sculpted features and hair now revealing itself to possess iridescent silver strands which his fingers ached to stroke through and tug.

“I’d rather look at you,” he said, and Hannibal’s eyes glistened in equal, awed anticipation before he ducked his chin shyly.

“Even just to feast my eyes on you after all this time is more than I can bear calmly,” Hannibal confessed after a few moments of intense thought. “If you only knew the storms inside me, roiling and screaming for you with the slightest hint you will be mine--”

“It’s alright, Hannibal,” Will smiled, giving his hand another comforting squeeze. “Believe me, I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, that was my first MCD in a fic! Sorry (not sorry?) Alana, teeheehee.
> 
> Will's statement, "that's not how our relationship works" was actually inspired by dialogue from the most recent episode of Riverdale. I thought it was a brilliant line and completely something Will or Hannibal would say about their bond.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has been reading, giving kudos and commenting, it means the world to me! <3


	5. Chapter 5

“This place is ridiculously lavish,” Will observed coyly once the well-tipped bellhop had departed their suite at the resort in Havana. They would stay here for a few nights before seeking out a more permanent residence. It felt, intentionally, deliriously, like a honeymoon. 

Will watched Hannibal, who was inspecting the elaborate accommodations as if there could possibly be a single flaw to be found. One almost might theorize he was feeling a bit bashful about confronting Will’s opinion on the place he had so carefully chosen to take him for their first night together, wondering if he had done well, if Will was pleased.

“You know you don’t have to keep trying to impress me, right?” Will smiled, well-aware that there wasn’t another person alive who could make Hannibal Lecter nervous. 

He didn’t want to use that advantage to trick or expose him any longer; he would take care of Hannibal now, thoroughly treasure him. They would take care of each other.

“You’re aware that my tastes run exclusively to la creme de la creme, present company included,” Hannibal corrected him, his voice flowing with fluid, musical ease, echoing around the enormous, marble-floored room with its crystal chandeliers, vast balcony, and a heavenly-looking king sized bed that made curiosity pool hot and insistent in Will’s low belly.

They had slept on the plane, snuggled up together in an awkward position, cramped seating and armrest be damned, Will crushing his face into Hannibal’s chest as they held each other close and warm. He was now better rested than he had been in years, alert to every sensuous possibility sizzling in the air between them, pushed to the edge of his restraint and highly tempted to walk over and tear Hannibal’s clothes off with a feral growl, then get his mouth all over every inch of that gorgeous body which had been distracting him since the early days of their friendship.

But he didn’t want to overwhelm Hannibal in this moment, which for him seemed fragile, capable of shattering if Hannibal allowed himself to believe it was real, that they could really have _this_ life, have each other.

Hannibal walked out onto the balcony, tipping his head back to welcome the warm evening breeze traveling playfully out from the nearby ocean waves to toy with his hair. Every moment of freedom was still a novelty of lush renewal sinking into his pores.

“If our lodgings impress you, that is merely a bonus feature,” Hannibal continued, his suave overture silenced when Will wrapped his arms around him from behind and kissed his neck. 

Hannibal sucked in a breath, his hands trembling over Will’s where they clasped around his belly over the grey sweater. 

“Still worried that the reality won’t live up to the fantasy?” Will inquired, nuzzling into Hannibal, scenting his neck, just the natural aroma of flight sweat and a cheap bathroom soap dispenser scrub-down layered over something that was just _Hannibal_ , deep, musky and alive, manly and mysterious and Will’s now, now and always. 

A light graze of stubble dotted down from Hannibal’s face to his upper neck, and Will smiled into the blend of Hannibal’s skin and the fresh air wafting across it, gently warm, smelling of mariposa flowers, sea grape trees and ocean salt. They were on vacation together. He used to laugh at anyone who told him he could use a vacation, dismiss impromptu getaways to decadent beach resorts as superficial, greedy whims of the type of rich and show-offy couples he’d once turned his nose up at. But now he kind of… _was_ showing off how much he loved his rich boyfriend, cavorting on a balcony for any other guests to see, and well, Will had never felt so greedy in his life.

Will’s warm lips traveled up Hannibal’s strong neck to lick delicately just below his ear, and Hannibal’s grip tightened on Will’s hands.

“Your affection towards me gives a strong sense of the surreal,” Hannibal admitted, eyes closed as he tilted his neck to let Will go on kissing him. “So much about this feels like a dream.”

He was paraphrasing words Will had said so long ago, over red wine and quietly seething treachery in the study of Hannibal’s Baltimore home. Sometimes Will still missed being with Hannibal there. It was the first place they had come to know each other with such powerful intimacy, even if they hadn’t been brave or reckless enough to explore it fully. No amount of trauma before or after had managed to uproot Will’s fondness for that fussily decorated, darkly haunting house. Much like the man himself, he reasoned.

“I remember every word you’ve ever said, too,” Will murmured. “I memorized them, kept them like precious individual messages in bottles, enticing hints you were tossing across the oceans of my pride and morality to bring me to your love. Even now, I’ll never let them go...they’re mine as much as you are.”

They heard the distant sound of a piano being played in the first floor lounge. “Have you seen us dancing together, in the memory palace?” Will asked. “I have.”

“Old standards on a charmingly fuzzy phonograph,” Hannibal affirmed, turning to cup Will’s face in his hand, his free hand landing tentatively at Will’s waist. “‘As Time Goes By.’ ‘The Way You Look Tonight.’”

Will’s smile shuddered into profound tenderness. “‘My Funny Valentine,’” he added, placing his hand on Hannibal’s shoulder. 

Their other hands joined together as Hannibal intoned huskily, “Shall we dance, Will?”

Will melted easily into Hannibal’s lead as they moved to the gently vague melody, his heart pounding at the way it felt to fall into rhythm like this, perfect, harmonious, comforting and exhilarating all at once.

“You’re a very fine dancer, my darling,” Hannibal praised when the song concluded and they were both breathing rather more heavily than the light exertion would call for. 

“It depends on the partner.” Will reached up and ran his fingers through Hannibal’s hair, smiling. “I love this. I mean, I loved your hair the way it was before, too. When it was longer, with you always trying to slick it back even though it seemed _determined_ to fall across your forehead every single time.”

Hannibal chuckled, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

“But this…” Will explored the closer-shorn haircut, the soft, yet wiry texture of Hannibal’s silver locks. “Is different. It shows off your face more...you seem so regal and severe somehow, and the color is beautiful.”

“I had wondered if you would like it, or if perhaps you might not. The inevitable signs of my aging.”

“It’s sexy,” Will said, shocked at his own brazenness as he stepped nearer and traced Hannibal’s lips with his thumb. 

Hannibal’s breath caught in amazement, lips curving in a slow smile he seemed almost afraid to let spread.

“Hannibal,” Will sighed, “You’re _so_ sexy.” He spoke the words in an intoxicating breathy murmur right over Hannibal’s mouth.

“You cunning boy. You know exactly how to drive me to distraction,” Hannibal admitted, pressing a hand to Will’s chest, then stepping back. “And I’ve told you _exactly_ what will happen once I begin kissing you. After the events of the day, I think we will both agree it’s best we shower first. Separately--” he laughed as Will lifted his brows with a teasing smirk. “And I’ll order us a light dinner from room service. Then, of course…”

The insinuation hung between them, pleasure-drunk and dizzy. “Of course,” Will nodded. “After you.”

Will sauntered out after his shower, nonchalantly appearing in nothing more than a white terry robe provided by the hotel, his hair still wet and slightly dripping, gliding in tantalizing rivulets down his neck and across the start of his chest where it was revealed by the low dip of soft fabric.

Hannibal sat back in his chair at the balcony table, dressed more sensibly in one of Will’s own white t-shirts and a pair of plaid pajama pants. Wanting in every way to feel close to Will, even if they were only apart for a few minutes. 

His eyes flicked possessively over Will from the dripping tips of his curls down the swath of lovely pectorals, finally admiring his long, slender legs and even his feet, a feature of his which Will had never given any aesthetic consideration in his life. They were just feet, they got you from one place to another; they weren’t soft or delicate, none of him was, even though Hannibal went on gazing at him from head to toe as if he was someone incalculably dear and fine.

“I see you’ve been foraging in my go-bag for supplies,” Will laughed, enchanted by the way his clothes clung to Hannibal’s larger frame. 

“Will, you look...” Hannibal gulped, voice caught between lust and reproval. The reproval, though, was more of a warning: _if you present yourself to me like this, there will be consequences._ Will couldn’t be happier at the thought. “You will insist on provoking me.”

“Yes. I will.”

He leaned down to brush a warm kiss to Hannibal’s flushed cheek, making sure the kiss was just a little too open-mouthed and wet to be even slightly innocent. He _did_ know how to drive Hannibal wild, and he loved the feeling, wanted to revel in it forever.

“What have we here?” Will mused, lifting the silver lid on one of the room service platters. “Oh, mussels, huh?” He was still leaning across Hannibal, deliberately teasing.

“Come here,” Hannibal snapped, grasping Will by the waist and hoisting him into his lap in a straddling position. It was a bit awkward, with Will’s back nudged against the table and the fit precarious due to Will being only slightly smaller, but there was the thrill of their groins pressed close, already half-hard and starting to throb, the delight of Hannibal’s hand roving up Will’s bare leg and sending electric tingles all through his body. 

“I’m sorry for misbehaving, honey...I just really needed you close like this. Are you angry with me?”

“No, my angel,” Hannibal’s accusatory scowl dissolved into a helpless smile. “And yes. I’m always a little bit angry with you for existing and teaching me what it feels like to depend entirely on someone else’s whims for my happiness. For the power you wield over my emotions with every breath you take.”

“Sorry,” Will said with a soft little laugh, stroking his fingers down Hannibal’s neck to the v-opening of the t-shirt, wandering his touch through the thicket of greying chest hair, his heart hammering incessantly to mirror Hannibal’s own.

“No, you’re not.” Hannibal procured a plump, juicy mussel, smelling richly of lemongrass and coconut milk, and held it to Will’s lips. “Now open up. You’ll need your stamina after all you’ve done to rile me.”

Will savored the experience of being hand-fed by his lover, making sure that with every morsel of mussels or mini stuffed red pepper, he swept his warm, wet, softly broad tongue all over Hannibal’s fingers and licked his lips, humming his approval at the cuisine to excess. By the time Hannibal was feeding him rum-infused bread pudding with ginger-caramel sauce, Will was fully hard and couldn’t help bucking slightly against Hannibal’s firm body beneath him.

“ _Will,_ ” Hannibal whispered, his voice fiercely revenant. He pressed his forehead to Will’s, big hands cradling his face.

“Everything you said to me on the phone, every _single_ thing, I want it,” Will said, reaching down to toy with Hannibal’s shirt and start slowly moving it up over his body, then off. Will marveled at his half-bared body, somehow roughly elegant, passionately refined, tense but completely open to this experience, raw desire burning in Hannibal’s eyes. 

“You know me by heart.” Will leaned in to kiss over Hannibal’s own, savoring the mad thumping need he felt beneath skin and bones. He said the things he knew Hannibal wanted to hear, his jealous, petulant, endearingly stubborn Hannibal. He told him the truth. “I know no one can love me better, and you’re the only one I need.”

He stood up only to offer his hand and a smile, demure but certain, and then led him into the bedroom. Once there, Will guided Hannibal’s hands to the cord securing his robe.

The ghosts of a thousand past mistakes between them shimmered sadly in Hannibal’s amber eyes. Unspoken, the words hovered ominously: after everything that had passed between them, all the cruelty, deception, violence (and the separations between them had been the worst kind of violence, in the end) how could _this_ be possible? 

“You truly want this, beloved? You are sure?” Hannibal laughed, husky and self-conscious. “You could kill me so easily now, if you wanted, instead. I’d let you. I’d enjoy it almost as much, but then after...I don’t want to think about having to go back to missing you.”

“Hannibal Lecter,” Will smiled, shaking his head at Hannibal’s charming deference and ridiculous suggestions, tipping his chin up before tracing the scar just under it, holding that worried, helpless gaze, knowing he had been born to keep it safe in his heart. “I love you.”

Hannibal swallowed, his eyes watering over as he untied Will’s robe, then moaned softly at the sight of him, leaning in to place a warm, gentle kiss on Will’s lips. He held Will by the hips, one hand smoothing up over his back as they drew closer, chest to naked chest, mouths opening to each other’s slow, fascinated exploration. They kissed away every delectable trace of caramel and ginger until only they could only taste each other, and that was even better. 

“Oh, God,” Will sighed, and Hannibal nipped his lower lip before sucking it hard, his bolder hands now roving over his ass and squeezing tight, asserting ownership. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Hannibal muttered, kissing hotly across the thin scar-line on Will’s forehead, “But I can’t deny that it makes me feel infinitely better, knowing there is physical evidence of the way I’ve changed you, written all over your beautiful body. Do you understand, my angel?”

“Yes,” Will answered dazedly, lifting Hannibal’s wrist and licking the bumpy, ragged scar there, his tongue wanton, wet and ravishing. Hannibal flinched in overwhelming pleasure, his eyes squeezing shut. 

“I feel the same,” said Will, “But this…” He touched the brand on Hannibal’s back, growling in anger. “ _This_ is not to be borne. I can barely stand to think of it. Turn around for me.”

Will turned Hannibal around, then mouthed over the Verger brand scar, his hands planted on Hannibal’s shoulders, watching his head drop forward in deepest enjoyment of Will’s attentions. 

“No one else is allowed to mark you…” He kissed his way down Hannibal’s spine, then circled back to face him, tugging down his pants as Hannibal stepped out of them. “Only me. I’ll change that scar one day, make it my own, as you are. Do you understand?”

“I want you to,” Hannibal smiled, and Will dropped to his knees, rubbing his face into Hannibal’s thighs, kissing and biting slowly, loving every small sigh or gasp he evoked. He stared at Hannibal’s cock, proudly erect and thick, throbbing in need to be touched, and then began kissing the tip, taking more and more into the velvet heat of his mouth while Hannibal petted through his hair, murmuring words of approval.

“That’s a good boy, make me ready for you, baby,” Hannibal smiled, head tipping back towards the ceiling as his eyes closed in euphoric anticipation. “Your mouth is a thousand times more perfect than I imagined, and I have imagined this every single day since first we met.”

Will hummed, sending vibrations in pleasure-waves through Hannibal’s body as he sucked longer and deeper, rhythmically drawing back to lap up and down his length before fully enclosing it again, cheeks squeezed tight, virgin throat ready to be defiled. Hannibal swore in several languages and yanked at Will’s hair as he stayed still and steady, letting Hannibal fuck into his mouth and down to his throat. Will was determined not to give into his gag reflex and for the most part he prevailed, but only a few rounds of this had Hannibal releasing him and pulling out, shaking all over.

“Lie down, sweet one,” he rasped, “I need to taste you, too.”

Will obeyed, his heart beating painfully hard, his cock pulsing in need, pre-cum beading the tip. Hannibal lay over him, a warm, pleasantly heavy weight applied in just the right places to be soothing and claiming. He kissed Will’s mouth with harsher fervor, lavishing over the taste of his own desire still lingering on Will’s tongue, and reached down to take Will’s erection in hand, stroking gently because it was still dry, but proving his point about knowing every way Will liked to be touched.

“I remember you touching me, so vividly,” Will smiled, then moaned as Hannibal released his cock just to lick and kiss down his body, starting with his neck where he left bites alternating from soft to sharp enough to draw small dots of blood, quickly swept away by Hannibal’s clever, insatiable tongue. Will mewled and whimpered, wanting nothing more than to lie there slowly undone by Hannibal’s mouth all day, but equally craving everything that would come after.

All those touches...memories of Hannibal, like fluttering papers scattered around the study of their mind palace. A hand on his shoulder, that night in Hannibal’s office when Will had called him out about covering up Abigail’s murder of Nicholas Boyle. That grip, both stern and highly suggestive, intentionally centering, going from tentative to firm in one skip of Will’s heartbeat and the smarting throb of lustful suspense ignited by his friend drawing so near and touching like that for the very first time. 

Consoling hands of healing and manipulation all at once, deft and tender and quietly insistent, pulling and twisting and shushing his encephalitis, and later, after Randall Tier, stroking over his battered fingers beneath the water, a baptism of self-discovery for them both. The slow winding of bandages carefully covering the wounds they both reveled in, the evidence of Will’s appetite and their strengthening bond. The dominating succor of a gun confidently, gently eased from Will’s sweating hand when he was terrified of what he was becoming. That brush of fingers was so powerful: a simple reminder that he was not, and never had been, alone in his darkness. It was, after all, a place to belong. 

And now, Hannibal’s hands followed in warmly roving, adoring caresses down every inch of Will that he kissed, from the hardened nubs of his nipples, where Hannibal left loudly smacking sucks that had Will’s hips jerking and his lips spilling helpless streams of swears and begging, to the smiling scar on his belly where Hannibal sighed and lapped attentively.

“I just wanted you to be mine,” he said, an unacceptable explanation but the only one they both knew to exist.

“I was,” Will reminded him, brought back to that rain-soaked night of despair for a moment. A moment was enough to feel it all again, staccato flashbacks of hot, gushing pain and blood from his gut, and the dark anger crackling across Hannibal’s drained, devastated face before he pulled Will into a crushing embrace, impossibly fucked up arousal thrumming through them as Will bled against Hannibal, covering his shirt and splattering the floor. “I was always yours, I just needed you to trust me.”

“I’ll never make that mistake again,” Hannibal promised. “Sweetheart, there is no one else I trust. You may do with me as you please, to cherish or to wound, and I’ll always know it’s what I deserve...you should decide, evermore.”

Will pushed Hannibal’s head down to his groin in answer and whimpered when Hannibal began to lick and suck at his cock. 

“Show me you’re mine. Make me yours,” Will begged, one hand clutching the pillow as he bit his lower lip hard, unable to contain the sharp bursts of ecstasy which Hannibal so easily pulled from him with every movement of his hot, slick mouth. Hannibal joyfully bore the smooth glide of Will’s dick to touch the back of his throat when Will thrust in rougher motions, his free hand clamped in Hannibal’s hair.

Hannibal didn’t stop until Will’s hips spasmed uncontrollably and his seed gushed plentifully over Hannibal’s tongue, seeping out the sides of Hannibal’s mouth. 

“Fuck! Jesus Christ, Hannibal-- God! Please…” Will cried, lost in white-hot shudders of orgasmic bliss, tears streaking his cheeks as Hannibal looked up from between his thighs, slipping his thumb across the excess of Will’s cum on his lips and licking it all up so happily.

“You are the best thing I have ever tasted, beloved,” Hannibal praised, running soothing hands over Will’s thighs where he trembled. “Here, now, let me give you everything you need, not only that.”

He guided Will to lie on his stomach, hovering over his back and arranging Will’s palms against the mattress, where his fingers immediately twisted at the sheets. Will’s sweaty brow pressed to the pillow, his pretty mouth still panting as the afterglow of his orgasm echoed through his body, a disbelieving thrum of pleasure that Hannibal was nowhere near done bestowing. He placed increasingly sloppy kisses all the way down Will’s back and then spread his ass cheeks, sighing in delight at the sight of Will so pleadingly laid out before him. 

Will thought he would rip the pillows to feathery shreds when he first felt Hannibal’s tongue pressing inside him, a wonderfully tantalizing series of circling licks having done nothing to prepare him for the sweet, dirty ecstasy of Hannibal so shamelessly rimming him, his desire falling all over Will in full force along with countless sighs and gasps of Will’s beauty, perfection, and what a good boy he was, how wanted and adored. 

It occurred to him that this was one of the fantasies on Hannibal’s mind when he would stare a little too blatantly at Will’s body during their sessions, that his therapist was thinking about eating him out just like this as if nothing could make him happier, and the thought sent another shudder of arousal through him.

Hannibal’s hands followed, opening Will with careful, precise thrusts and strokes until that first nudge against his prostate made Will cry out so loudly that Hannibal’s restraint broke and he scissored into him hard and fast, his hand slamming in and out, wet with saliva and soon slick with lube as Will begged for more. 

When Hannibal lined his rigid erection up to Will’s hole, Will pushed his ass up higher into the pressing grip of Hannibal’s hand, thinking again about all the ways those hands had touched him, shaped him, hurt him and brought him to ecstasy, sometimes all at once, and maybe those were the best times. He watched over his shoulder as Hannibal pressed in, gradual at first and again careful, although Hannibal’s hold on his hip tightened to bruising intensity, matching the flushed, shocked expression of complete surrender on his face.

“Oh, Will--” 

Will was so responsive to his touch, to every move Hannibal had ever made, in love with the details of the man that set him moaning and quivering, shameless finally. And Hannibal was ravenously touch-starved, thrown through another loop of disbelief every time he looked at Will. In his cell, he had masturbated countless times just over the thought of Will’s eyes and the gorgeously teasing mischief they held, the quirk of his cherubic lips enough to have Hannibal’s hand stroking in reckless abandon over his pulsating, juicy shaft. To actually feel the warmth of Will’s flesh in his needy grip, Will’s body squeezing him tight, to hear those breathy moans and grunted curses interspersed with his own name, _his_ \-- 

Hannibal understood now why Will avoided using his first name, that he had to say it in that hazily blissed out, begging tone, or he couldn’t say it at all. The sound was like lightning crackling amidst the heaving storm in his soul, and— Will’s body, naked, sweat-streaked, strong and gaped more for Hannibal’s achingly hard dick by the moment— Hannibal had disappeared above this world into some impossible realm of too-perfect happiness that half-terrified him, but he could never fight the feeling again.

__A touch-starved lover and a painfully responsive partner made for a spine-tingling, unforgettable combination, and that was on top of their intellectual bond, the blood-black soak of their conflicted, matching passion forever coating their hearts, conjoined._ _

__“Hannibal, I love you,” Will sighed again, giving into the sensation of being filled, completed, the feeling he had tried to approximate, a dream he tried to make true when he was alone, but nothing could ever have come close to this, the heat and weight of Hannibal pushing deeper until he was balls-deep and swearing again, crying out in jagged exclamations of Lithuanian and French, and Will squeezed him insistently. “Move, Hannibal, please, please.... Don’t hold anything back from me-- God!”__

___Hannibal took him at his word and grabbed his hips harder, finding a rhythm that caught onto Will’s inner tempo, his heartbeat and the rising tumult of his arousal, and there was nothing in the world but the perfect glide of Hannibal inside him, the pincer-stab of his teeth in Will’s neck, worrying small, still fresh wounds and the knowledge he would be covered in bruises he could barely wait to show off._ _ _

___Will wanted everyone to know that he belonged to the handsome, sophisticated older man by his side, wherever they went. He wanted to be able to look in the mirror every day and see recent proof of the fact, to be able to press his fingers into the bruises and bite marks to reignite the ache anytime he chose._ _ _

___“May I be rougher with you, love?” Hannibal asked hoarsely, as if reading his mind, and Will nodded almost frantically, “Yes, always, you don’t have to ask-- ah!”_ _ _

___Hannibal spanked him hard, fucking Will firm and deep, hitting his prostate enough times that Will’s moans grew louder, loving the harsh treatment and only wanting more of it. Hannibal made sure to keep the strokes long so they could both feel the sleek, hot glide of him, sinking further into Will’s pulsating walls. He left big, rosy handprints all over Will’s pertly bouncing flesh, and the profane slap of his hands balanced the wet smacking sound of their bodies colliding again and again._ _ _

___Will nearly disintegrated in joy when Hannibal’s hand closed around his throat, Will’s fingers clutched hard around the sheets as Hannibal pounded into him, shifting his dominating touch to Will’s curls. He pulled Will’s hair, causing him to yelp, then grabbed his face and drew him into an aggressive, messy kiss._ _ _

___“ _My _good boy, Will, mine. You take every inch of me so well, but you need even more, don’t you? My lovely, greedy angel.”___ _ _

_____He had to pant and sigh out the words, breath ragged against Will’s swollen lips and the hot sweep of Will’s tongue touching every bit of Hannibal’s mouth he could reach._ _ _ _ _

_____Their mouths were still wildly moving together when Hannibal came in a feverish groan, shivering convulsively against Will, then pulling him up onto his knees, continuing to thrust in as he took hold of Will’s cock and stroked him, kissing his neck, holding him steady with a sweaty palm clamped to his chest._ _ _ _ _

_____The feeling of that large, knowing hand roving up and down his dick would have been quite enough, but Hannibal’s luscious mouth wreaking havoc on his neck, the feeling of his body heat and hairy chest rubbing against his back were all too much. Will came with a shocking jolt of sharply sweet pleasure, covering Hannibal’s fingers in cum that was soon slathered back over his cock as Hannibal expertly jerked him through his orgasm._ _ _ _ _

_____“I can’t…” Hannibal finally managed to say, breathless and wide-eyed as he pulled Will around to face him, then down into a snug embrace, Will on his back, Hannibal nibbling and lapping at him like a lavish feast. He kissed all over Will’s face and licked his own hand of the excess cum, seeming to go into some kind of lust-driven daze as Will went on moaning with pretty flutterings of his eyes._ _ _ _ _

______

___“Can’t believe I lasted even that long after all of that time thinking of this, and you… _you_ , Will, just the sight of you, the sound of your voice, how you taste, better and sweeter than anyone should ever taste, my God…”_ _ _

___Even that long?_ Will shivered in fearful delight to think how much stamina Hannibal would have in the future, if this encounter seemed brief by his standards. __

____

____

Will mewled softly as Hannibal pressed him back down into the sheets and licked up every lingering drop of cum from his cock, then kissed his lips to share the salty-raw flavor.

______“It’s okay,” Will murmured, placing his hand over Hannibal’s still raging heartbeat under sweat-dampened silver curls, “I’m not going anywhere, I promise...except everywhere you’re going. I’m really here, this is real.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Hannibal slowed down and calmed slightly, nodding._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You said, ‘My God,’ when you made love to me,” Will grinned, pleased with himself. “You’re seldom one to give much tribute to any deity. What brought that on?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Your ass,” Hannibal laughed. Will was still getting used to hearing him swear, something he suspected Hannibal only did in erotically charged contexts. “Your thighs…” he sighed, caressing every area on Will’s body as he mentioned it, the way he would describe a favorite, exotically rich meal, an exquisite classical painting or a rapturous night at the opera. “Your arms and hands...Your chest...I could go on…but Will, I never said it was a biblical god I was calling out to.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Will giggled, overwhelmed and delighted to be so. “I love your body, too.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I feared I’d grown too skinny,” Hannibal admitted, curving his hand and stroking his knuckles over Will’s blushing face as he hovered above him, honest in his nakedness and his insecurities, something Will loved almost most of all. “That I looked much better the last time you saw me, before my arrest. I was...stronger, more--”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You were perfect then,” Will smiled, leaning up to kiss his lips, cupping his face in return as his free hand roamed down Hannibal’s chest and stomach. “And you’re perfect now. Besides, you still have just enough right here,” he lightly pinched the little softness in Hannibal’s belly, “For me to squeeze.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“And that’s a good thing?” Hannibal asked, slightly baffled._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s a great thing. I want you to start cooking again and take me to dinner at all the best places according to you...I want to see you healthy and happy. But skinny or not, if you can’t see how unbelievably gorgeous you are, I’ll be glad to remind you every day...all day.” More kisses, slow and savoring. “All night...I suppose we have to take occasional breaks to eat and sleep and…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“And hunt,” Hannibal added, “When the time is right. Make our chosen home into the perfect haven for our new life, arrange it in styles that suit both our tastes, christen every room multiple times--”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Naturally. I don’t know what it says about me that giving into you used to be my worst nightmare, but now I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I don’t ever want to be apart from you again.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“We were never fully wrenched apart, my love.” Hannibal snuggled in close and rested his face against Will’s chest; Will wrapped his arms around his warm, strong, broad back and massaged him in slow circles. “I might add that you were more afraid of giving into yourself than into me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Are you sure there’s a difference?” Will asked dreamily._ _ _ _ _ _

______“From the very beginning of our acquaintance, Will, I always encouraged you to be true to yourself. I never liked watching you allow others to tell you what to do or who you were. I hope that you are not still blaming yourself, over Hobbs or Tier, or Alana. Over…” He frowned and made himself say the loathsome name. “Molly.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I never forgot you, Hannibal. You don’t have to worry about me missing her. She and I meant well by getting married, but we just weren’t being honest with ourselves; we’re both better off this way. As for the rest of the guilt...as for Alana...I seem to be sliding down a precarious slope into amorality, because I can’t seem to access my regret over her. I had to take her down to save you. I can’t regret that, can’t even be sorry.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You were excited when you killed her,” Hannibal observed, kissing all over Will’s chest although his lips had to be completely exhausted, nuzzling his nose in to scent Will’s body heat and desire. “Perhaps even aroused.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I always feel aroused when I kill. But this time, you were watching, and it was...for you. An offering.” Will licked his lips, brow furrowed in contemplation. “Each time I kill, I’m so hungry for more. I used to worry that if I went on killing, began to hunt with you, I would become addicted.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“We’ll find a balance,” Hannibal suggested cheerfully, lacing their fingers together, watching the fit of their hands as if witnessing the most eloquent poetry. “When we hunt again, you may choose whom to pursue. Relax with yourself and with me, and we will put your skills to good use...all of them.” His free hand reached up to Will’s lips, and Will bit at his fingers playfully, laughing._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I guess a shower is in order _again_...and we’ll have to do something about these sheets.” Will winced and Hannibal laughed, a laugh like the warmest sunny day and a sky free from clouds, a laugh that used to be rare coming from him. Will wanted to make him feel that way all the time. _ _ _ _ _ _

______“Come on, dearest, I’ll help you wash up,” Hannibal invited, smirking as he climbed off the bed and tugged Will by hand to follow._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh, how selfless of you. I suppose then I’ll have to help you, too. If I must.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______In the shower, they cleaned each other with intricate, lingering care, then stood there wrapped in a tight embrace letting the hot water cascade over them, their eyes closed and fingers clutching into skin already deliciously bruised and sore._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I understand how you felt about me and Molly,” Will admitted, his voice muffled against Hannibal’s shoulder. “I was...upset about you and Bedelia, in Florence. The idea of you living together as man and wife.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______His voice had gone icy, deadly, and his nails sank into Hannibal’s skin as Hannibal sighed in pleasure at the pain. “You wish to kill Dr. Du Maurier,” he stated as a simple fact._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It wouldn’t be fair, since I won’t let you kill Molly. But God, yes, I want to kill anyone who’s touched you, seen you like this.” Will grimaced, but Hannibal pulled back slightly to clasp his face and stare deeply into his eyes with a soothing smile._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Beloved, no one else has ever seen me like this. And we can certainly explore the idea of a last visit to Bedelia, as spoiling you is one of my foremost joys in life. Everything need not be measured by tallies and evenness between us. Some things we may do simply because we please, because we can.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Will nodded, his raging heartbeat calming slightly. “I thought you wanted her because she could accept you ways I never could, without judgement.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Even if she could, she still wouldn’t be you, sweetheart. She could never satisfy me, even as a passing distraction.” Hannibal slicked a hand through Will’s drenched curls, firmly holding his head back just outside of the downpour from the shower head. “Surely you know how rare it is to have the chance to make love to someone with whom you are in love.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Will submitted to Hannibal’s hold on him, letting it take the edge off his panicked regression into jealousy. “How many times in your life have you fucked someone you loved?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Never before today, so only once, unless we are counting that splendid phone call,” Hannibal admitted, backing Will into the shower wall and pressing his resumed erection into his hip._ _ _ _ _ _

______Will’s eyes rolled back as his cock filled out again, but his curiosity remained intact: “How many times have you been in love?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Once.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Then Will stared at him, their eyes locked in a desperation that still felt fresh. They shouldn’t do this again, not when he had absolutely no idea how he had managed to get it up again, not when his erection felt like a perilous oversensitivity teetering close to painful._ _ _ _ _ _

______But Hannibal saw the revelation sinking into Will’s understanding, the knowledge that Hannibal had never known love before him, and he took Will’s hand, resting it on his own behind where Will instinctively began to grope and squeeze, enamored with the beautiful muscular curves of his lover’s physique._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Take me back to bed, Will,” Hannibal begged. “Fuck me.”______

How could Will resist?

“Oh, I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Will grinned down at Hannibal, who lay on his back staring up in contented expectation, just as spoiled as Will. “You know we’re going to end up buying all this bedding. It’s going to be wrecked.”

______“Yes indeed. But I think you should wreck me first, for good measure.” Hannibal winked and reached behind Will to smack his ass, igniting a disciplinary gleam in Will’s eyes._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s your turn to be a good boy,” Will smirked, wrestling Hannibal’s hands down into the sheets, laughing at Hannibal’s ridiculously transparent acting job as he supposedly "fought" against Will's domination. “You love this, huh?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I will love every way we can have each other,” Hannibal said honestly, and Will nodded, leaning down to kiss him, relishing the feel of them pressed together in one long, bare line of hot, adoring skin and bone._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah,” he sighed between kisses as his free hand flopped around on the bed seeking the bottle of lube, “Me too.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Prepping Hannibal was hot enough, goosebump-inducing as Hannibal relaxed for him so easily, as Will learned how it felt to be hugged by Hannibal’s body in a tight, squeezing, needy manner more intimate than almost any other way they could touch. “Yes, baby,” Hannibal rasped, clutching at any part of Will he could reach as his vision nearly blurred with the onslaught of sensation, “Yes, give me more.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Will slicked himself up and nudged against the tight ring of muscle, his mouth falling open in shocked euphoria as he slid deeper inside Hannibal, holding onto his widely parted thighs for dear life as Hannibal let out a weak, pleading cry._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s too much,” Will grunted, fully seating himself, unable to decide if it was the wanton look on Hannibal’s face or the feel of him on the inside, surrounding Will that had him so hungry, so impatient. He made no attempt at being tentative, but slammed into Hannibal repeatedly in a messy rhythm, just coordinated enough to tauten and heighten the rise of pleasure between them, using up every last bit of energy they had left._ _ _ _ _ _

______He exploded deep inside Hannibal with a fierce growl and kept pounding in as the almost uncomfortably overwhelming orgasm wore him completely out, and there was elation in the feeling of pushing their bodies past the limit of normal endurance, taking and taking from each other to excess. His hand roved shakily over Hannibal’s cock, only needing a few fast strokes before Hannibal burst, a silent moan rocking him from head to toe. Hannibal was so overpowered he could not speak; he could barely move. He just lay there as Will practically limped to the bathroom and returned with a warm, wet cloth, cleaning them and then pulling the blankets over them as they cuddled up tight again._ _ _ _ _ _

______Who even knew what time it was, Will wondered in a complete haze of post-coital exhaustion. It must be…_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hmmm, goodnight my darling,” Hannibal whispered against his forehead as Will smiled into his chest, the hairs tickly and soft and perfect._ _ _ _ _ _

______Will guessed it might be close enough to midnight to let go of any attempt to prolong this first day of their new life. His arm lay heavy over Hannibal’s torso as he surrendered to the insistent tug of sleepiness and mumbled, “Goodnight, honey.”_ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and to think this started out as a three chapter story! I always get carried away with these boys. Speaking of which, Hannibal's POV managed to sneak into this final chapter, as it often has a way of doing since it's so closely entwined with Will's.
> 
> Fic title is taken from the song "Just Thought You Should Know" by Betty Who, which also inspired the premise of Chapter 1. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed the ending! <3


End file.
